The Brother Code
by Sandylee007
Summary: Twins Will and Clint were separated when they were small boys. What happens when a family tragedy brings them together? Old wounds are torn open as they're both forced relive their painful pasts. Will it leave them stronger than before or broken?                               TEN CHAPTERS               Claura
1. Goodbye, Hello

A/N: PHEW! It took me longer than expected to get this typed, but here we are. (grins) I just couldn't resist a crossover!

I've typed a story with a plotline a bit like this before, for another fandom. BUT, this'll be different. NO ACTION, just pure drama and angst! (Because I'm a sadist who can't resist angst, LOL.)

DISCLAIMER: BUAH-HAH-HAA! Yeah, right…! If I had the money to hire Renner I'd die of joy. Me… owns… nothing. (POUTS)

WARNINGS: CROSSOVER, VERY DARK and adult themes, child abuse, language, ANGST, weirdness… Oh, anyone out there…?

AWKAY, because it's late and I'll chicken out if I keep stalling… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

 ** _The Brother Code_**

* * *

Chapter 1 / 10 – Goodbye, Hello

* * *

Social worker Renee Stannis sighed heavily as she climbed out of her ancient, grey Sedan and ran a cigarette stained hand through her shortcut, unruly maroon hair. With barely even three hours of sleep the night before, she tried to remember what she read about this family from their file. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of the information.

Two children, twin-boys of six years. Clinton Francis and John William. Their mother was a paranoid schizophrenic who, according to the neighbors, vanished two weeks ago and left the boys all alone. There was no knowledge of their father. Chances were that even their mother wouldn't have remembered, if they were able to ask her. Renee didn't have a very clear idea of the boys' current mental and physical condition but she braced herself for anything.

Her colleague, Pharrel Wyans, was just finishing a phone-call with a grim look on his face. He had a pair of incredibly ancient eyes. Those and the fact that he hadn't shaved in a few days made him look far older than his thirty-three years. "Stacy found the mother", he announced before he even looked towards her. "Someone called the cops when she started tearing apart a grocery store. She wasn't able to tell who she was and had no ID along."

Renee swore colorfully under her breath. Her glare scanned through the neighborhood, at a lot of expensive looking houses. The building they currently stood by was the only stain on the landscape. Several people were staring at them openly. All those people, and this family must've met countless of healthcare professionals. "Why the hell didn't anyone react sooner?" Why didn't anyone even try to help?

Pharrel wrinkled his nose. His fists were balled so tightly that knuckles turned white. "Because no one care enough."

Renee inhaled a heavy sigh. She then took a deep breath, bracing herself. "Well, we do. So let's go and see the boys."

The second they entered the house Renee knew that this would be one of those cases she'd never, ever forget. The small house, which was in a miserable condition and still stood only with sheer stubbornness, was impeccably clean. Even if only two small boys had inhabited it for weeks. Clearly someone had taken a good care of it, until recently. A layer of dust was gathering slowly yet steadily above everything. There was no electricity. Renee wondered just long the family had gone without.

Both she and Pharrel froze upon discovering a string of metal that'd been placed across a doorway. "What the…?" he sputtered in utter disbelief. "Is that a trap-wire?"

"Where's mom?" a young but threatening voice growled. Did it come from somewhere above them? How? "What did you do to her?"

Renee swallowed. "Your mom is very sick", she explained softly. "She's been missing for a while, hasn't she? Who helped you take care of the house?"

"No one", the boy spat back. Defensive. "Will cleaned, I set the traps. That's what mom told us to do. To make sure that it was clean and that we're safe." There was a frosty pause. "Did you come to take us away from her?"

"We came because looking after yourselves is too much work on two boys", Renee explained, trying not to let the tension she felt become audible. "We came to help, Clinton."

"Clint", the boy corrected instantly, sounding just a little more like someone of his age. Tired. Scared. Angry. Abandoned. Exhausted.

"Clint", Renee repeated. And nodded, certain that the child was somewhere he could see her. "Where's Will? We need to make sure that he's okay, too."

There was a long silence that made her stomach knot as she feared the worst. The response she eventually got wasn't very reassuring. "He… got sick. I think… He may need a doctor. But not one of those bad ones. Mom's told us to stay away from them."

"Then we'll take him to one of the good doctors", Pharrel promised. Sounding incredibly reassuring although his eyes darted around nervously. "Where is he?"

They both shuddered when there was a small thud and turned around. Apparently there'd been a hole in the ceiling neither of them noticed. Because through such a small boy had jumped and now stood behind them. Horribly tousled but clean hair, clothes that'd seen better days but had no stains. Although he was fully dressed it was easy to see how thin he was. There was a threat in the far too old eyes glaring at them. "You… won't hurt him, right?"

"We won't", Renee promised. Her heart breaking. "Take us to him, yeah? Then we can see what we can do to help him."

They were led through a very, very impressive maze of hallways. Renee realized that if the kids wanted to, they could've easily hidden there and wouldn't have been found until the house finally collapsed. Did their mother build the renovations? Renee dreaded to imagine what kind of a mind could come up with something like that.

After five full minutes they reached a tiny, dimly lit room. Clint dove in first, towards a thin mattress that must've served as a bed for far too long. "Will, a couple of people came here. They said they want to see you're okay."

There was a tiny lump on the bed. It wasn't until Clint addressed it the adults realized that it was a second child. Pale and even thinner than the one who greeted them in, deep shadows around closed eyes. It took them a long time to realize that the boy was still alive and that the chilling sound they heard was his breathing.

While Clint continued to try and rouse his brother Renee glanced towards her colleague. Their eyes held identical horror. "Pharrel, call an ambulance."

* * *

By some miracle, and with an incredible amount of stubbornness, John – or Will, as the boy preferred being called – pulled through. Neither twin was happy when they were sent to an orphanage. Very quickly it became apparent that aside their identical appearances, the boys had absolutely nothing in common.

Will worked his hardest to blend in as soon as he overcame the first shock and most of his physical ailments. He blended in, never talked to a lot of people but always had a pleasant smile on his face. He adapted to a point where he became invisible. Even some of the adults around him fell for his magnificent act.

Clint was working his hardest to not blend in. He picked up fights, got himself into a trouble as often as he could and refused to interact with anyone. Save his brother. He obviously imagined that no one noticed when he adopted a puppy, which was strictly forbidden. The adults didn't have the heart to take his pet away, especially when the animal was one of the only two creatures in the world the traumatized child talked to.

Well, there was one thing the twins did have in common. They were incredibly protective of each other. Will watched over Clint like a hawk, and Clint attacked anyone and anything he considered a threat to his ailing sibling with horrific viciousness. Their symbiosis ran so deep that the adults around them couldn't imagine there was anything that might break it.

Until one day of a winter storm.

* * *

John Brandt and his wife, who never even got the chance to introduce herself properly, observed the twins for an hour. As though evaluating animals. Until they finally came to a decision.

They only had the intention of having one son, and despite desperate reasoning from professionals they wanted nothing to do with Clint.

Despite their best attempts those who worked at the orphanage never found out what, exactly, happened. But at dusk Will followed the couple to their limousine. He wasn't crying or smiling, for once he didn't even attempt to put on a show for someone. The adults who actually cared had never seen a child with eyes that looked so trapped and defeated.

* * *

/ _Clint's eyes were hard. Full of such fire Will had seen far too many times. It was the first time that ire was directed at him. "This is all your fault! That we were taken from mom, that we had to come here!" His twin gritted his teeth painfully tightly. "Go with them, because I don't wanna be your brother anymore."_

 _Will was only six, still ill and unable to think clearly. It wasn't until he was an adult it occurred to him that he had something in common with his brother. They were both phenomenal actors._ /

* * *

Clint wasn't there to see Will off. The child locked himself into the bathroom of the room he shared with his brother. It took a considerable amount of effort before the adults managed to break in. They encountered blood and shards of a broken mirror.

It was the first and only time they ever saw Clint cry.

* * *

/ _Mr. Brandt cornered Clint into the room that was supposed to be a safe place. Where no mean adult was supposed to get to. The look in the man's eyes made him tremble, although he was too young to understand why. "Listen to me carefully, you useless brat. You…" The rich man wrinkled his nose at him. "… are nothing but a pathetic lost cause. But your brother… There's still some hope for him. I can see it." Clint sneered and opened his mouth for a venomous retort but Mr. Brandt was faster. "Stop being a selfish little prick and let him go. You're pulling him down, making him ill. Do at least one thing in your pitiable life right and let him go."_ /

* * *

Clint was eight and a half when a family finally came by that agreed to take him. The child was far from happy to go but resigned to his fate. He was barely even ten when came back, that time with Barney Barton, a car crash with his adoptive father driving drunk having stolen his second family.

The second time he left he didn't come back.

Some of those working at the orphanage and Renee were left wondering what became of the twins. If they ever found each other again, if they even tried. If they were even alive anymore.

In the end they decided that perhaps it was more merciful to not know.

* * *

Clint Barton had just returned from a long, exhausting mission the night before. Bruised, battered and thankful to be alive and in one piece. He wasn't exactly surprised when he discovered that he'd slept until almost noon.

He groaned loudly, then shifted just enough to peer to his side. Only to discover that Laura wasn't there anymore. Still haunted by the nightmare he just had, his stomach constricted until he heard the sounds of his kids laughing outside.

He really had to do something about that tiny, infuriating part of him that always expected the worst.

With a glorious yawn and a stretch that made him wince, Clint hauled himself out of the bed and began to drag his heavy feet downstairs. He smirked at the scent of coffee and pancakes. It widened to a wide, satisfied smile when he found Laura from the kitchen. "Morning. The bed was cold, but I forgive you if those are blueberry pancakes." At that moment he finally noticed the look on her face and the envelope she was holding. His chest tightened. "Laura?"

She swallowed thickly and wrapped one arm around him. "I'm… sorry, I was half asleep and didn't realize that it was for you before I opened it." She squeezed him a little tighter. "Honey, I'm sorry."

About a couple of hours later Clint sat on the porch, every single muscle in his body tense and holding his phone so tightly that it was a miracle the item didn't break. Eventually he steeled himself with a deep, shuddering breath and dialed a number Phil Coulson gave him when he was twenty-eight.

He'd almost given up until someone picked up. And he recognized the voice instantly, because it sounded like an echo of his own. " _Brandt._ "

Clint gulped. What was he supposed to…? "Hi." Well, that was a crappy start. He blinked several times and rubbed his face roughly with one hand. "It's… me." Wasn't he just on fire…? He was trembling so badly that he nearly dropped the phone and sniffled when a sob attempted to break out.

" _Clint?_ " The disbelief and uncertainty in Will's voice were heartbreaking. " _What's wrong?_ " Still, after all the years, after everything…

"She's dead", Clint breathed out just as the first and only tear rolled.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Those poor boys…! Neither of them has had it very easy. If you've read my Clint-stories and 'The Perfect Son' about Will you know some of what they've gone through. If you haven't, you're about to find out. (grins, then winces)

Sooooo… The ball's been thrown to you! What do you, would you like to read more? PLEASE, do let me know! It's always nerve-wrecking to start a new story so I'd LOVE to hear from you.

In any case, thank you so much for reading! Who knows. Maybe I'll meet you later?

Take care!


	2. And Then There Were Two

A/N: PHEW! It's LATE, but I couldn't go to bed without updating. (chuckles)

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your reviews, love and support! You have NO IDEA how much they mean to me, especially when I'm starting a new story. (HUGS)

Awkay, before I get all mushy… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR MENTIONS OF CHILD-ABUSE IN THE FLASHBACKS.

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Chapter 2 / 10 - And Then There Were Two

* * *

/ _When Will became tossed into his new life he was completely and utterly lost. For such a long time he had only his brother, mother and whatever little she could provide them with. And suddenly he was thrown into a life of luxury, without neither of the people who were his whole world._

 _For the first time in his life he had all the things he needed, or at least his new parents imagined that he needed. More food than he could've ever stomached. Massive piles of clothes. Toys and books he didn't want but also didn't dare to refuse._

 _It was important to be obedient, after all. To be a good boy. Because otherwise… What if these people would tell him to go away, too? He didn't want to let down his second family as well._

 _For the longest time his life consisted mostly of two people. And then, all of a sudden, there was what felt like a small army around him. Babysitters. A 'ridiculously expensive', as his so-called father scoffed, private school with its students and teachers. And a therapist who smiled sweetly at anything he said, because he only said the things she wanted to hear. He was good at being what people wanted him to be._

 _He didn't tell anyone that he cried himself to sleep every night because he missed his brother and mother. Or how hopelessly lost he felt, everything he'd ever known having been snatched from him. That he only smiled politely all the time because it was better than screaming out loud. Nor did he tell anyone that he was bullied mercilessly at school because he was new and weird, because he couldn't adjust quickly enough. He didn't succeed in tricking the kids, wasn't able to stop them from attempting to break him like it was a fun new game. Adults were easier._

 _His therapist and teachers all smiled, complimenting what a charming, well-mannered boy he was. His adoptive father tolerated his presence with curt, accepting nods and occasional grunts. If the man wasn't pleased with something he did or said it was expressed in no uncertain terms with a fist or an open hand. If someone from the man's work or other important people were around Will was placed on a pedestal like a trophy, called John Jr. Him having been adopted was never mentioned with even a single word, and Will came quickly to the conclusion that it was something to be ashamed of. His new mother was all smiles and spoke to him in a tone that would've been more proper when interacting with a baby. She fussed around him constantly, in the same manner he saw many people fussing around their pets. Like he was a cute new puppy. Desperately affection-starved, he clung to that attention with all his might, no matter how insulting its quality was._

 _And like puppies he grew up, quickly. Suddenly he wasn't cute enough to earn all her care anymore. Especially after she got pregnant. When a stunningly beautiful baby-girl was born she seemed to barely remember his existence._

 _Will had never felt quite so alone in the world. So abandoned. And he deserved it all, didn't he, if his own brother hated him enough to yell at him to go away. His only comfort was that at least it couldn't get worse. Until things got far worse._ /

* * *

/ _Will remained in his favorite hiding place, even though he knew that his adoptive father had passed out a long time ago. His face still hurt, and he didn't want his new family to see him weeping. He couldn't afford showing weakness._

 _So there he sat high on a tree-branch, looking at the tiny, miserable looking house he was supposed to call a home. It didn't bother him that they had hardly anything. He'd always had barely more than his brother and mom. But it would've been nice to feel safe for at least once in his life. It was exhausting to always keep his guard up, to always have to fight. But what else was he supposed to do when that fight was what kept him alive and sane?_

 _He was the angriest at himself. He was the one who let his mom down, who let his brother down. Whatever he was getting, he deserved it and would face it like a man._

 _Didn't his adoptive father always roar at him to take it like a man?_

 _It did feel unfair, though. All of it. He wanted to go back home, to Will and their mom, their real mom, but knew that the opportunity and right were both lost._

 _"What are you doing sulking up there?" a familiar voice inquired, amused. His adoptive brother Barney stepped into view, stopping under the tree. "You're not a baby enough to get scared and hide from dad, are you?"_

 _Clint sneered, the best as he could with his bruises. "I'm not a baby", he spat. Then hunched back the best as he could, pulling his legs to his chest. The sun was going down and it was cold. Why was he stupid enough to not grab his coat? "Why does he hate me?"_

 _"He hates pretty much everyone." Barney shrugged. "And why should he love you? You're just a stray mom wanted to bring home."_

 _It was the truth. Which didn't make it hurt any less. Clint shivered, looking at the grey sky to hide the tears filling his eyes. "Why did she take me here?" Why did she insist on adopting him if she didn't care about him enough to defend him, to keep him safe?_

 _"Dunno. A lot of the stuff she does doesn't make sense." There was a pause before Barney went on. "But I guess you're my brother, now. And brothers stick together. Don't ever forget that."_

 _Clint nodded. Because what else could he do? He had no one else left. His only comfort was that at least it couldn't get worse. Until things got far worse._ /

* * *

It was so many years, far too many, since the last time they heard each other's voices. In truth, considering the circumstances in which they parted ways they fully expected to never talk again. They definitely never wanted it to be under these circumstances.

Will swallowed thickly, his muscles so tense that he began to tremble. His throat felt horribly dry and so tight that he could barely breathe. "Mom's… gone?" It was feeble, barely audible.

It all came back to him in a flood. The good. The bad. It'd all felt so very distant and now…

Will swallowed twice and rubbed his face with one hand. In a clearer mindset he might've wondered why his eyes and cheeks felt moist. "How…?" He couldn't bring himself to voice the rest, no matter how hard he tried.

" _Massive stroke._ " Clint sounded choked and cleared his throat. " _They sent a letter._ "

She carried them. Brought them into the world. Raised them for years. She was their _mom_. And when she was gone all they had was a letter. Or well, Will didn't get even that much. His adoptive parents made sure that he'd have no connections to his previous life, no way of communicating with his birth-family. He had no idea how Clint found his number. Or what, exactly, he was supposed to say.

In the end Clint couldn't stand the tense silence any longer. There was a long, shuddering sigh. " _We… I guess we need to bury her._ " Those words would've been harsh if his brother didn't sound so completely, utterly lost. There was a clear, unvoiced plea. _I need you._

They had a distant, colorful and painful history. But he had only one answer. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Clint sighed. Sounding far older than his age. " _Thanks. I'll send you the address._ " There was a brief, uncomfortable pause. " _Will, I…_ "

All of a sudden Will felt like there wasn't enough air in his lungs. Like he was suffocating on dry land. His hand trembled horribly while he loosened his tie. "I've… I have to go. Just… Send the address. I'll be there." He hung up before he had the chance to consider it twice or before Clint had the opportunity to prevent the motion.

Will had no later memory trace of the following five minutes. He only knew that afterwards his knuckles hurt horribly, his eyes stung and he was still gasping. And of course the universe decided that he didn't get to pull himself together in solitude.

He didn't realize that he was no longer alone until Ethan spoke, startling him. There was a frown on the agent's face. "Brandt?" The man nodded towards the phone still in his unsteady hold. "Who were you talking to?"

Will felt dazed. Maybe it was the shock over it all settling in. He gulped and blinked. "My, ah… brother. Just… family issues." He took a deep breath and, with well-trained self-control, perfected his composure. Buried the heartbreak, buried the agony. "Let's go and finish that mission report so we can finally go home."

* * *

Clint waited for two days, gathered his courage if he was honest, before he finally made his move. Staring at the small bag he'd just prepared, he once again wondered how to tell his team about his mother and brother. Because he knew he'd have to. As some kind of a cruel, cosmic joke his mother's last care facility was in the very city where he spent so much time. The team would definitely find out about the funeral and they wouldn't appreciate having been kept in the dark. He already hid one family from them for a long time – how well would they take him having hidden another? He just didn't know how to do it. How to find the words, strength and courage.

Laura wrapped her arms around him from behind and kissed his neck. "Look, I can come with you. You don't have to…"

"I know." He leaned closer to her warmth, instantly finding a hint of comfort. "But the kids need you. So… You keep the troops safe. I'll come back home as soon as I can."

"You're preparing for this like for one of your missions."

"I know." And he hated it, he really did. Loathed himself for feeling so much that he absolutely wasn't supposed to be feeling, for letting all those memories still get to him. "I wish…"

"I know." She kissed him again, several times over. "The kids are asking about uncle Will, you know. One of them heard us talking, most likely Lila."

Clint shivered. There were far too many people involved in this royal mess. "How am I supposed to explain this to them?" The kids had known that he used to have a brother and that they couldn't grow up together. But the whole story… It definitely wasn't something he wanted to share with children.

Laura swatted his head playfully. "You keep forgetting, genius", she scolded gently, meeting his eyes. "You never have to face anything alone ever again."

Somehow that succeeded in giving him enough comfort to help him breathe and start moving again.

* * *

Will waited for two days, gathered his courage if he was honest, before he finally made his move. He had every intention of heading towards the address his brother gave him in a secrecy. He'd never really had a holiday so, as he put it with a shrug, maybe it was high time he had one. His new team didn't know him well enough to question anything. (Then again, did anyone know him very well?)

He had every intention of doing this alone, since that was what he was used to.

Apparently his team had no intention of letting that happen. Because when he sat to the plane that'd take him to New York he realized that Ethan occupied the seat next to his. He frowned and tensed up. "What are you doing here?"

Ethan shrugged. "What does it look like? Taking a vacation." The man's eyes studied him briefly before returning to a book. "Unless this isn't a vacation."

Will gulped. Worked his hardest to keep himself in check. "No", he finally admitted. "This isn't." No matter how badly he wished otherwise.

Ethan nodded. "I know." Of course he did, because he was infuriating that way. "Which is why Benji and Jane are already in New York."

Will probably should've been furious over the insult to his privacy. But he didn't have enough energy for that. And if he was fully honest with himself… Wasn't it, in a way, heartwarming that he finally had people around him who cared?

"Do you want to share what this trip is about?"

"So you know where I'm going but you expect me to believe that you don't know why?" Will tried to make himself more comfortable, even if his stomach was in knots and there seemed to be a rope around his throat. "Who notified you?"

"Nick Fury. Old… friend of mine." There was a long pause. When he didn't react Ethan went on. "I take it you don't want to talk about it."

Will shook his head vehemently. "Not yet." Neither of them was much for sharing, which was a big reason to their communication issues. He was sure that his friend understood.

Ethan did. The silence that ensued was heavy but comfortable. As the plane took off Will wondered just what he was getting himself into. And if he'd be able to handle it.

* * *

Tony Stark was just about to start some… private adult-time with Pepper when a computerized voice spoke. Effectively breaking the mood. " _I apologize, sir, but… It seems that agent Barton is outside the main entrance, waiting to be allowed in. The nightshift security guard is on a break._ "

Tony swore and groaned. Loudly. And came up with some creative ways to punish his friend for this. "Since when has he ever used the door, anyway? I swear, when I get my hands that guy I'm gonna…!"

"Tony." Pepper's voice was somehow firm and purring at the same time. "Just let him in. And then…" She smirked and winked. "… I'll give you a reward for your patience."

Tony had never moved as quickly without his suit as he did then. Nonetheless reaching the entrance floor seemed to take ages and by the time he got there his left eyebrow was twitching. Sure enough, Clint stood behind the door, wearing an expensive looking suit. "Feathers, you'd better have one hell of an explanation for this", he growled far from pleasantly as soon as the man was safely inside. "Did you have a fight with Laura or something?"

The other man quirked an eyebrow. Genuinely confused. "Feathers?"

"Uh, Tony…?" The voice didn't come from the man in front of him, rather from behind him. Peering over his shoulder, he found a familiar archer in jeans, black shirt and a coat of the same color. There was a shockingly open and broad display of emotions on the man's face. "Surprise?"

Tony blinked five times. Looked from one man to another, slowly. Then exclaimed the only coherent thought that came to his head. "Holy shit, there's two of you!"

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: GOSH! Poor boys. (whimpers) But how sweet is it that, no matter how subconsciously, Clint trusts his team enough to meet his brother in their lair? (Although I think he wanted to break the news BEFORE Will appeared…) We'll see just how this tale continues, and how many old wounds are torn open…

Thoughts? Comments? PLEASE, do leave a line or two! I'd LOVE to hear from you.

IN THE NEXT ONE: As the funeral-preparations begin emotions run high, and bitter memories arise. The confused teams try to make sense of the recent revelations.

Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	3. Friends and Secrets

A/N: I'm SO SORRY for taking so long! (whimpers) I started working on this chapter WEEKS ago, but it refused to take shape and I didn't want to post a version I couldn't agree with. Sooo… (smirks sheepishly) BUT, we're finally here! Yay?

THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all your reviews, love and affection! They've DEFINITELY helped keep this story's flame alive. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've kept you waiting TOO LONG… Let's go! I REALLY HOPE that this turns out worth the wait.

* * *

Chapter 3 / 10 – Friends and Secrets

* * *

/ _Will felt like there was a rope wrapped tightly around his chest as he stood in a massive, gloriously decorated room. He did as good of a job as anyone of his age could be expected to as he faked smiles for the strangers around him, some of whom sighed at his parents how adorable children they had. Somehow Will managed to keep smiling instead of snarling that he was a child, not a pet. His adoptive mother gushed, smiled, laughed and practically chirped, far more experienced in this game of pretend than he was. Will knew that as soon as they headed back home all she'd have eyes for would be her daughter. He wasn't tiny and cute enough to earn her affection anymore. Somehow the loss of attention, which he'd already started getting used to, hurt more than anything else. His adoptive father just stood there with an unreadable expression. Every time Will looked towards the man the marks a belt had left on him throbbed, forcing him to look away again. He wasn't planning on earning a new whipping._

 _Eventually it got too much on the little boy. When the real child of his adoptive parents began to produce squeals and caught everyone's adoring attention he slipped away unnoticed. Out of the building and into the cool, fresh evening air outside. He walked aimlessly until he heard something. A neigh._

 _Will was drawn to it instantly. Tossing all his father's stern warnings against snooping without a permission to the wind he followed the noise to the stables a small distance away from the mansion. There were four horses. It was the midnight-black one with stormy eyes that caught his attention._

 _Forgetting all caution and common sense again Will approached. The horse shifted restlessly and huffed when he reached out a hand, but eventually decided to accept the invasion. The child smiled, mesmerized._

 _It took months before he'd dared to ask his adoptive parents if he could get a pet. Or start taking riding lessons. His birth-mother couldn't afford anything such but maybe these people…_

 _His adoptive father was quick to shoot down the idea. There'd be no pests in his home. And no money would be wasted on riding one, either. End of story. Will accepted the verdict with a meek nod, because there was nothing else he could do, and fought the tears wanting to fall._

 _Desperate to cast aside the memory Will inhaled a long, shuddering breath and leaned his forehead against the horse. The animal shivered but didn't move away. The feel of something warm, soft and alive against him was incredibly soothing._

 _Will didn't know how long he'd stood there, enthralled, when a woman's voice made him shiver from startle. "He's beautiful, isn't he?" Agatha Willis, wasn't she? He remembered his adoptive father introducing her once as someone he worked with. She stepped forward, looking at the horse. "His name is Captain. He's my favorite out of these four, a really old boy already. I don't have enough time for him anymore."_

 _Will frowned. "That sounds sad." If he had such a wonderful friend he would've never gone away from it._

 _"It is", Agatha agreed softly, her eyes on him. He was only eight, too young to read the alarming look in them. "You know… You're welcome to visit anytime to keep him company."_

 _Will's eyes widened. For the first time in… he didn't know how long he felt really, genuinely happy. "Really?"_

 _Agatha smiled. "Really. On one condition." The hand she lay on his shoulder felt unnaturally heavy, wrong somehow. Her eyes darkened. "It'll be a secret between just the two of us. You can never tell anyone, okay?"_

 _Will nodded. "Okay." He smiled with child's innocence, not realizing the trap he was walking into. He was willing to promise pretty much anything if it meant getting to spend time with the beautiful horse. "I'm good at keeping secrets."_ /

* * *

/ _Clint spent most of his recesses alone and preferred it that way. Being alone, at least, was better than being tormented by bigger, older kids and ending up labeled a troublemaker for fighting back well. He kept hoping that all that hassle might get the attention of his adoptive parents. Until he stopped hoping entirely. At least the fights gave a reasonable explanation to the bruises his adoptive father gave him._

 _So Clint was all alone in the world, and preferred it that way. Usually he spent recesses sitting on the branches of his favorite tree. One day, however, he discovered that his hiding place was occupied. A girl of his age sat there, two branches higher than where he dared to climb. Wind had tousled her long, dark-brown hair but she didn't seem to care as she hummed quietly with her eyes closed._

 _Clint frowned. Because he refused to admit that he pouted. "That's my tree!"_

 _The girl giggled. "You can't own a tree, silly", she pointed out. A pair of big, hazel eyes opened and peered down at him, full of warmth and curiosity. "Hi."_

 _Her response was such Clint hadn't known to expect. It left him speechless. "Hi", he settled for at last. His frown deepened. "I haven't seen you before." It sounded like an accusation._

 _She didn't seem to notice. "This is my first day here", she revealed. That smile made it hard to stay mad at her. "I'm Lila. What's your name?"_

 _"Clint."_

 _Lila accepted his somewhat grumpy introduction with a nod. Then gestured for him to join her. "Climb here."_

 _Clint gritted his teeth, unsure what to make of such kindness. "Why? Boys don't play with girls."_

 _Lila wrinkled her nose. "That's just stupid. Why not?" She made room for him, not seeming to even notice the mighty fall underneath her. "I've got gummy worms. Do you wanna share?"_

 _The gummy worms sealed the deal. Deciding that he was no coward, Clint climbed all the way to where she was. And that was where they sat until the end of the recess, eating candy. Since then it became their tree. Their sanctuary from the rest of the world. A place from where no evil could ever find them. Clint found that realization almost as soothing as the song she always hummed._

 _Two months later Lila made Clint smile for the first time. Six more months passed by and he saw her cry, for the first and last time. He had no idea what was wrong and she refused to tell. He kissed her cheek then, chastely and clumsily, because he had no idea what else to do to make her stop crying. Neither spoke a word of it afterwards. Just after Clint's birthday it was her turn to kiss his cheek. Two weeks later he couldn't find her when he climbed up. He never got to see her again._ /

* * *

The tension could've been cut by a knife. It was just getting broken by Tony when Pepper arrived, having wondered what was taking her boyfriend so long. "So, ah… Hi. I'm Tony St…"

"I know you. I've read a lot of articles about you." The something close to amusement on the stranger's all too familiar face was almost creepy. "I'm…"

"Will." Tony didn't think he'd ever heard that tone of voice from Clint before. The man's eyes blazed from anger, hurt and a million other things. "With me, now."

The twin – Will, apparently – nodded and followed without a word. As soon as they'd left Tony groaned. "They're gonna kill each other, aren't they?"

"Of course not." Pepper didn't sound as convincing as she probably tried to. "But… Have them monitored, carefully. Just in case."

* * *

Gunshots echoed almost painfully in the room. The air was so thick with tension that it was hard to breathe. Two pairs of identical eyes sized up, evaluated.

"You're not a bad shot."

"Neither are you."

For a long time they glared at the target boards, mainly because it was easier than facing one another. Eventually one twin took a deep, slightly unsteady breath and put away his gun. "Look, Will…"

Will's jawline tightened to an extend that had to hurt. "Don't." The man's tone was sharper than a knife, lazed with venom that'd had years to form. They looked at each other, total strangers despite the past and genetics they shared. "We haven't been brothers in decades. We're too old to pretend anything else." Fists balled incredibly tightly, and it was a lucky thing they weren't holding a firearm anymore. "We'll bury her." Calling her 'mother' after all the time passed… It felt unnatural. Refused to fit into the agent's mouth. "And then we'll continue with our lives." He turned abruptly, feeling like there was no air in the massive room anymore. His chest was tight and pained, made breathing almost impossible. He didn't want the other man to see the vulnerability on his face, the cracks on his usually flawless mask. He was a stellar actor when he had to be, but even he had his limits. "You know my number. Text me when you're going to visit the funeral home." He needed to get out. Had to get out. Right now.

He was almost safe when Clint spoke. Sounding so much like the child he last met that it tore at something in Will he thought died a long time ago. "They…" The archer cleared his throat. "They were supposed to look after you. Give you everything you needed."

Will's eyes flashed, too many memories and feelings surging through. His aching heart raced as though it was about to burst. "I didn't need rich people pretending I was a part of their family." He sounded like a child, too, and hated it. He'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't let it hurt this badly anymore…! "I just needed you." With that he walked out and banged the door closed loudly, not giving Clint the chance to say a word in return.

Clint stared at the closed door that felt thicker than any wall of bricks. His chest and stomach hurt, so much that it threatened to drive him insane. His eyes narrowed as the discomfort spread into them as well.

 _I did my best!_ he wanted to holler at the man who wasn't there anymore. At the man who once, in another life, knew him better than he knew himself. _I was just a brat! How the hell was I supposed to know?_ But his brother wasn't there to hear anymore.

So, instead of screaming uselessly, Clint picked up his gun and fired another vicious round at the target board.

* * *

Tony paced. And paced. And paced. And it was really starting to get on Pepper's nerves. "Tony, sit down. You're giving me a headache."

Tony showed no signs of slowing down. Or having heard her. He continued to mutter darkly, shaking his head every now and then. A very convincing impersonation of a mad scientist, really. "They've killed each other. They've definitely killed each other." The Iron Man moaned forlornly and rubbed his face roughly with one hand. "I'm too old for this level of drama." He then seemed to catch his words and winced, looking towards her. "Don't ever tell anyone I said that."

She kissed his cheek. "Don't worry. My lips are sealed."

Finally one of the twins appeared, marched towards him. Only his attire revealed which one of the two he was. Tony shifted, not quite sure how to approach. "Hey, Will…" The other walked right past, the look in his eyes making it seem like his mind was somewhere incredibly far away. The billionaire lifted a hand and waved. "Bye, Will." He rolled his eyes, but didn't dare to mutter until he could be sure that the other was out of earshot. "So, yeah, they're definitely brothers. That guy's as bad of a drama queen as Feathers." He winced and pretended to be insulted when Pepper smacked the back of his head. "Ouch!"

"You can be such an idiot sometimes." Pepper kissed the spot she just assaulted. "Consider yourself lucky that it's one of the things I love about you." She nodded towards the direction where one twin was still hiding. Or sulking. "Do you think we should try to talk to him?"

Tony snorted. "He's pissed off and armed. You got a death wish?"

Pepper sighed heavily. Like the parent of several acting up toddlers. "I'll make some coffee."

* * *

Outside, in pouring rain, Will walked. And walked. Honestly, he had no idea where he was going. He just knew that the further he got the better.

It says something about his mental state that it took several minutes before he realized that he was followed. A few moments ticked by before he recognized Ethan's presence. A strong, silent support. A shadow watching over him.

Will opened his mouth, then decided that he wasn't ready to talk. Eventually, after what could've been a minute or an hour, he stood on a bridge. Still breathless and aching, he grabbed the railing with both hands so hard that his knuckles turned white and just held on. Tried to catch his breath. Rain washed away the loudest traces of emotion from his strained face.

Even without looking he knew that Ethan was there the entire time, and it made him feel a little less alone in the world.

* * *

Clint continued the target practice until he physically couldn't hold a gun anymore. He was so exhausted that he barely stayed on his own two feet. By some miracle he managed to make his way to a couch before he flopped down, his legs feeling like Jello and his head pounding unbearably.

He was close to dozing off, emotional overload draining him, when he sensed that he wasn't alone. Tony was approaching uncharacteristically slowly, as though unsure if he was welcomed. "I guess I'll have to buy new target boards. Again."

Clint smirked sheepishly. Achy, tired and overwhelmed. "Get good ones this time. These couldn't take even twenty bullets."

Tony rolled his eyes before one eyebrow bounced up. "You're… not armed now, right?"

Clint tried to grin but couldn't quite achieve it. He could tell that his friend had a million questions. This amount of self-restraint was baffling. "Not a bullet in my clip. It's safe to proceed."

"Well, good. Because I come bearing gifts." Tony held out a chunk of very, very tempting looking chocolate cake. "It's the last slice", the billionaire revealed. "I hid it from Rogers, to save it for a special occasion. Use it well."

It'd been a long, trying day. Full of nasty memories and heartache. But at that moment Clint smiled, just a little bit, and allowed himself a little bit of comfort. Whether he deserved it or not. He forgot all the crap in the universe for a little while. "Tha…"

"Thank me and I'll punch you, Budgie."

Clint arched an eyebrow, taking a taste of the treat. It was every bit as good as it looked. "You wouldn't dare to try, Shellhead."

"No, I wouldn't."

The silence which followed was heavy and thoughtful but not uncomfortable. Clint was the one to break it, eager to tear himself free of unpleasant thoughts and memories. "So, Rogers ate almost the whole cake alone again?"

"Yup." Tony pouted, nodding towards the treat the archer was devouring slowly. "That's the only slice I managed to save."

"Do you think we should have an intervention?"

"Definitely."

They'd talk, that much was inevitable. Because Tony was practically about to burst from questions. And the others would, without a doubt, ask a lot of things when they'd eventually find out. But now wasn't the time for those. Now there was only a stolen moment of soothing silence. And chocolate cake.

"You wanna share?" Clint inquired, seeing the longing glances his friend kept sneaking towards the cake.

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

Neither twin slept that night, no matter how tired they were. At five in the morning Clint received a text message. A time, a funeral home's name and an address.

' _I'll be there_ ', he sent back without a thought. Because of course he would be. It was starting to feel like he hadn't been there for far too much.

Ten minutes before the agreed time they approached the building almost simultaneously. Clint in all black, Will wearing a suit he seemed to use as an armor or a shield. They looked at each other warily, neither quite sure how to proceed.

In the end Will took a deep, steadying breath. "We'll never be the brothers we once were again. But… We let her down once and…" The agent clenched his jaw and looked away for a long moment. "… and we owe her this much. We can't let her down again."

Clint nodded morosely as an agreement, self-blame he'd fought decades to get rid of now very much alive and gnawing at him. It was funny, in some horribly bitter way, that the guilt over her seemed to be the only thing they had in common anymore. "Then what are we standing here for? Let's go." The faster they had this over with the better.

And in they went, Will following a step behind like he used to do. Letting Clint take the lead and ensure that it was safe, just like it'd been since they were born. Under different circumstances it might've been comfortingly familiar.

The door sounded grim and worn out as it closed after them.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: There's SO MUCH darkness, pain and sadness in both their pasts. (winces) So… Who was expecting a smooth reunion? No one…? Let's hope that they'll be on a friendlier ground by the end of this, for both their sakes. They've been harboring ache and guilt for TOO LONG.

SOOOOO… Was that worth the wait, at all? Are you still ready for more (because I sure am)? PLEASE, do let me know! Hearing from you is one of my favorite things.

Awkay, I REALLY need to head to bed. Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	4. Just What Friends Do

A/N: See? SEE? A new update in less than months! YAY! (smirks sheepishly) BUT, before getting to the actual point…

DAAANG! THANK YOU, so, so much, for your AMAZING reviews, listings, love and support! They mean more to me than you could ever imagine. (HUUUUGS)

Awkay, because the clock's ticking and I should be in bed already… Let's go! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

TRIGGER WARNING for child abused and sexual abuse (nothing HORRIBLY graphic, though).

* * *

Chapter 4 of 10 – Just What Friends Do

* * *

/ _It began so subtly that someone as young as Will had no hope of realizing that something was wrong. For months the time spent together with Agatha and the friendly attention she gave him were the best things in his life. It was addictive to have someone who actually seemed to care about him. The hand squeezing his shoulder or rubbing his back was harder to grow used to, because he'd never liked being touched. But he'd been so desperately alone in the world for a while that he didn't dare to tell her to stop. What if she'd stop caring, too? And worse, what if she'd tell him that he couldn't spend time with her horse because he was such a naughty, irritating boy? She and her horse were his only friends. He couldn't afford to lose them._

 _So he kept his visits to her a secret. Didn't speak up even when, eventually, she asked him to do things he was uncomfortable with. Even though those things left him feeling horrible and achy, emotionally and physically._

 _"This is what all friends do", she assured him. And how was he supposed to know that she was lying? He'd never had a friend before._

Just what all friends do _, he comforted himself when he sat huddled in the horse's barn. Aching so badly that there were tears in his eyes, feeling utterly humiliated._ Just what friends do.

 _That was how Will was taught. Hers were the only lessons on friendship he'd ever been given. So, when at the age of nine and a half he met a boy named Owen and decided that for the first time in his life he wanted a friend… It was all he had to act on._

 _"What are you doing? Get away from me!" The look on Owen's face was far more painful than the meeting arranged with the school's headmaster and his adoptive parents._

 _His adoptive father sat there like a statue made of stone. Stiff and expressionless, never once glancing towards him. His adoptive mother burst into tears. "I… I don't understand…! We've… We've raised him well! I don't understand…!" She sobbed louder. "How… How could he do this?"_

 _"John?" It stung, like it always did, to be called by that name. Especially when it was accompanied by that frown and those disgusted, mistrusting eyes of the headmaster. "Is there something you'd like to say?"_

 _What point was there in saying anything when everyone had already decided that he was lying? That he was dirty and broken? Will swallowed, hating the taste in his throat. "I'd like to go home now, please", he murmured, fighting furiously against tears._

 _Will honestly imagined that he'd already messed up enough things. But apparently he did the most horrible thing when they finally made it home, after a chillingly quiet car-ride. He approached his adoptive mother and did the most terrifying thing he'd ever done in his whole life. He told her the full truth._

 _"She said that it's just what friends do." He searched the face of the woman who was supposed to be his mother, desperate to find some warmth, security or comfort. "Did she lie?"_

 _He wanted a hug. Needed a hug, because it'd been a horrible day. He needed someone to tell him that there was nothing wrong with him. That he hadn't done something he was supposed to feel ashamed of._

 _She didn't give him any of those things, instead started to cry and sent him to his room._

 _An hour later his adoptive father marched into his room without a knock. The thunder on the man's face would've frightened even almost every adult. "Are you trying to destroy my career, you filthy brat? You're trying to ruin my reputation, aren't you? My whole life." The man nodded twice, a horrifying gleam in his eyes. "I will show you what happens to lying little rats."_

 _Downstairs his adoptive mother tried to hum louder while cooking so she wouldn't have to hear the noise which followed, her eyes shining from unshed tears._

 _Later, this time hurting from fast forming bruises, Will stared at his own reflection in the mirror. And finally gave in to the tears that'd wanted to come for hours. Because he realized that the only friend such a disgusting, wrong boy would ever have was the person who caused all this hurt._ /

* * *

/ _Clint would've wanted to look for Lila, because the summer break had just ended and he hadn't seen her in what felt like ages for someone so young. Especially when there was something he wanted to give her. But he had no idea where she lived. And since she didn't go to the same class he did he didn't have a lot of chances to look for her from the school, either._

 _After the day's third class he noticed that people were whispering. Several adults were wiping their eyes, and he saw a couple of students crying. He finally got his answer on the day's second last class, when his teacher – a young woman with long, brown hair and big eyes of the same color named Miss Rumley – entered the room. And immediately wished he never did._

 _Miss Rumley took a couple of deep breaths and wiped her eyes before starting to talk, her voice atypically quiet. "So, ah… As some of you might've known, Lila from class B has been very ill for a while, now." She wiped her eyes again. "Her parents contacted the school earlier, to let us all know that she passed away five days ago." She gave them a long moment to digest the heavy news. "If you'd like to…"_

 _Clint stared at her lips but couldn't hear a thing from the buzzing noise that'd taken over his head. Everything spun nauseatingly, and his body felt unnaturally numb. And his chest… He couldn't breathe, no matter how hard he tried. Each exhale came out as an agonized pant._

 _He had to, needed to…!_

 _He didn't see the strange looks he got as he bounced up and ran. Didn't hear his teacher calling out his name. He just ran, blindly and aimlessly. Until he found the location some force within had chosen and froze. It was the tree._ Their _tree._

Lila's lips felt soft against his cheek. And warm. But he liked her smile and the firm hold she had on his cold hand even more. "Just what friends do", she explained with the innocence of a child. "You looked sad. When I was sad and you did that it helped. Do you feel better?"

Clint nodded without any hesitation. And smiled, real and honest. "Yeah, I do."

 _Clint stared. And stared. His trembling hands deep in his pockets, one of them squeezing the treasure he'd meant to give Lila. It felt stupid, now. Everything felt stupid. And eventually he couldn't take it anymore._

 _Clint took the item, a ridiculous heart-shaped stone he knew she would've liked, and tossed it. It hit target, leaving its mark on the tree. And he screamed, from the bottom of his heart and soul. Unaware of the tears streaming down his face. "You… You were supposed to be my friend! Friends, they don't…! They're not supposed to…!"_

 _Lila didn't answer him. Nor did the tree. He was all alone in the world again._

 _Clint wiped his face, only to discover that more tears came immediately. "Come back", he begged with the despair of a grieving child. "I… I won't even get mad, I promise. Please, just… Come back."_

 _No one answered his pleas. Still he sat there stubbornly, and waited. Until finally Miss Rumley came and carried him inside, calling him a silly boy for scaring her in such a way._

 _Clint wanted to yell at her. Wanted to scream at her to let him go, wanted to holler that he needed to wait. But all he could do was cry, like some stupid baby. "She… She was my friend."_

 _Miss Rumley hugged him comfortingly. "I know. And I'm so sorry."_

 _Once again Clint didn't even hear her. He stared at the tree through aching, blurry eyes. And decided that he'd never, ever have another friend if all they brought was pain like this. Clearly he didn't even deserve a friend, anyway._ /

* * *

Over the years – decades – Will had imagined meeting his brother again more times than he cared to admit. Sometimes full of so much remorse that it seemed to suffocate him. Sometimes weighed down by petty vengeance that echoed from the sickly, lost little boy he once was. He imagined finally getting to utter those things he'd wanted to say for such a long time. He imagined finally unloading all the poison that'd been coursing through his veins, although he knew that most of the anger was directed at himself.

He pictured a lot of different scenarios. From funny to sad and downright ridiculous. He was an analyst, after all, and very good at his job. But somehow… Somehow he never managed to foresee the two of them standing in front of a coffin they just picked for their mother.

The silence was heavy and loaded, but not hostile. They both stared at the dark, wooden surface. Both imagined her inside it although neither wanted to.

Eventually the man who'd been helping them remarkably patiently cleared his throat and shifted. "I, ah… I'm going to give you a minute."

Clint finally spoke thirty seconds after the man's disappearance. "Smokers. They have no patience."

Will snorted. Eager to think about something else, anything else, than… "You, accusing someone of lacking patience?"

"Oh, I've learned my lesson. Waiting for the proper shot at a target for two hours in a freezing weather and pouring rain does that to a person." Clint's jawline tightened, but only for a moment. "I'm not that brat you keep remembering anymore."

"I know." Will saw, all too clearly, the hard lessons life had given his brother in the man's eyes. It intensified the scorching sensation in the pit of his stomach. He gritted his teeth when the feeling threatened to turn into acid. "Neither of us is."

Some more silence hung heavily over them. Clint's breath didn't sound steady as the man stared at the coffin. "I can't…" The Avenger cleared his throat. "I can't remember the last thing I said to her anymore."

Will shuddered from the memory that roared to life. A pitch-black mental snapshot he'd imagined buried somewhere in the depths of his mind. It was a shock to discover that it still hurt like it was brand-new. "You're better off without that memory", he assured his brother.

* * *

/ _A scream. A little boy crying from sheer heartbreak and despair. "Mommy, please stop…!"_

 _"Shh…" Such a sweet, tender voice. So full of security. "You'll be all better when this is over."_ /

* * *

Clint's eyes hardened against some thought or memory. The man's jawline tightened threateningly. But by some miracle what came out wasn't openly hostile. "What I said… Was it what made her abandon us?"

Will felt his hands starting to tremble and he balled them as tightly as he could. Bile rose into his throat and keeping it down was a war he barely won. "She left because she was sick. Always talking to those ghosts inside her head. Sometimes I still wonder if she loved them more than she cared about us." He took a breath, then another, almost surprised that he still could. He needed to get out of the room. Needed to… "You know what my last words to her were? 'Mommy, please stop.'" There was no bitterness in his tone, only bottomless sadness. Such that seemed to crush his racing and aching heart under its weight. He wiped his eyes, barely even registering that they were moist. "And you know what's the saddest part? The most screwed up part? I…" He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "I still feel like I was the one who let her down."

Clint was almost alarmingly quiet while he struggled to compose himself. "I feel that way, too. Every day", the archer confessed at last, not even glancing towards him. The man's shoulders slumped. "We couldn't do much for her, while she was still…" There was a heavy pause. "But… We can give her a proper funeral. We can say goodbye." It wasn't much, but it'd have to do.

It seemed like Clint was gathering his courage for saying or asking something more. Will wasn't sure if he should've been annoyed or relieved when all intended words were cut short by the return of the place's owner. Based on the sheepish look on his face, the man knew that he'd interrupted something. "So… Have you two reached an agreement?"

The twins nodded in tandem. Arranging a funeral was simple. Trying to figure out and deal with what would come after… Not so much.

Their steps were stiff as they finally walked out, a not exactly comfortable silence hanging heavily on them. It wasn't easy to find anything to say when they'd just talked more than they had in decades. The acid and venom lurking just beneath the surface didn't exactly make things easier.

Will frowned, his muscles stiffening even further, when Clint stopped with a groan. The archer explained before he had to ask. "Looks like we've got a ride."

Morbidly curious rather than alarmed, Will looked the same way. A beautiful redhead stood nearby, leaning against a very expensive looking black car. She seemed irritated on first glance, but when one looked more closely…

"Where'd you get the car?" Clint inquired, aiming for a light tone and not exactly succeeding.

"One of Stark's." She shrugged. "I figured he could lend one, after calling me and cutting my vacation short."

Clint snorted. "You don't do vacations." It was both exciting and terrifying to see how easily the mask of a carefree grin settled in place. "I thought that he'd never borrow you a car again after what happened to the previous one."

"I said I borrowed it. He just doesn't have to know about it." She gave them both a stern look, those sharp, hazardous eyes finally locking on him. Reading, analyzing, seeing far too much. "Get in. I'm going to take you both to the Tower."

Will shivered. Going back to that place… Spending even more time with his brother… Even the thought felt overwhelming. "I appreciate the offer, but… I've got a hotel room…" The way she nodded towards the car made very clear that there was no room for objections. Will sighed heavily. "This is technically a kidnapping. You realize that, don't you?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're definitely twins. Such drama queens…"

The looks she gave him were terrifying. In about ten minutes it became apparent that her driving was something even worse. Swallowing thickly against unease he would've never admitted out loud, Will turned his head. This time he was the twin that groaned upon seeing something through the rearview mirror. "Subtle as usual."

"You mean the motorcycle following us?" Clint sounded deeply suspicious but not openly hostile. "Who is he?"

Will felt a tiny hint of comfort, even though he wasn't exactly excited about the idea of Ethan getting involved in… _this_. "That… would be Ethan Hunt." At least he sounded a little more like himself. Small victories… "You haven't seen a drama queen until you've met him."

The woman scoffed. "You think he's worse than Tony Stark? How much are you willing to bet?"

Will's eyebrow arched. He folded his arms, although he wasn't entirely sure what threat he was shielding himself against. "Before betting anything it'd be nice to know your name, at least."

"Natasha Romanoff." It was impossible to tell how she felt from the brief glance aimed at him. "Welcome to New York."

Will smiled wryly at the bad joke. A brother who could barely stand his presence and whose presence he could barely take… Apparently a whole group of strangers to whom he was a potentially dangerous stranger with a familiar face… He didn't exactly feel welcomed.

* * *

Ethan following their car was a small comfort when he felt like a soldier being led as a captive to enemy territory.

By the time Ethan made it to the Tower he saw a man with Will's face stood by the front door, waiting for him. It took a few seconds to notice the subtle differences, and to figure out who he was looking at. He climbed off the bike and stripped his helmet deliberately slowly, constantly eyeing at the stranger who was a nearly perfect replica of his friend.

"So." Clint took a deep breath. "I guess you want to have a talk."

* * *

Somehow Will managed to reach the same training room where he and Clint demolished the target boards what felt like a lifetime ago. He struggled to focus, put all his effort into not thinking about anything but breathing normally. In… Out… Nice and easy…

The flashbacks refused to stop flooding in.

Despite his distraught state, no matter how preoccupied he was, Will sensed a presence. When he peered over his shoulder Natasha stood right behind him. She smiled sweetly, but only a fool would've missed the danger in her eyes. "I think we should have a talk."

* * *

Observing the surveillance footage from all over the building, Tony groaned loudly.

"I'm not going to say 'I told you so'", Pepper sighed.

"Thanks." Tony didn't bother trying to hide his sarcasm. He emitted a loud sound of despair, rubbing his face hard with both hands. "This isn't good… This so isn't good…!" He shook his head. "I just… I only wanted those two idiots under the same roof in less than decades. This…" He gestured animatedly towards the screens. "… is exactly why I'm not supposed to be the babysitter, ever!"

Pepper took a deep breath, then started fiddling with her phone. Tony's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you doing?" he inquired.

"Damage control."

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Oh boy… Forcing them under the same rooftop? Yeeeeeeeeah, Tony, not one of your best ideas. (winces) SO, guys… Who thinks it's going to be sunshine and roses for the next couple of chapters? (looks around) What, no one?

But oh, those poor things, they had such rotten childhoods! (shudders)

SOOOOO… Any good? At all? Deletion worthy? PLEASE, do let me know! I LOVE hearing from you.

Okay, I REALLY need to get going now. Until next time, folks! Hopefully I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	5. Broken Families (Lead to Broken Hearts)

A/N: Oh man, it's been TOO LONG…! (winces) BUT, here I am, AT LAST. So… Yay?

Before getting to the actual business… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews, love and support! Those are what helped with bringing this story back to life. (HUGS)

Awkay, because I've already kept you waiting too long… Let's go! We'll see just how bumpy of a ride this chapter will be…

* * *

Chapter 5 of 10 – Broken Families (Lead to Broken Hearts)

* * *

/ _When someone does the kind of a thing Will did to Owen, it doesn't tend to stay a secret. Especially amongst curious, loudmouthed kids. In a matter of days everyone knew._

 _To his adoptive parents the bullying which ensued wasn't a problem. Until the wealthy, powerful parents of the students began to find out and ask uncomfortable questions. Until Will started sporting bloody noses and bruises all over his face. Those didn't sit well with the image of a perfect family during parties and galas. So, after six months of torment, the boy finally got the chance to switch to another school. His adoptive father seethed from fury, but Will was so thrilled that he had hard time holding back tears. Maybe, for once in his life, he was finally going to be lucky._

 _What he didn't expect was the two weeks it was going to take before the transfer would take place._

 _On his last day at his old school Will had a swimming class. Which practically enthroned the misery he'd endured in that building. He'd been horribly afraid of water since he was five. The other kids mocking him and screaming that they didn't want anywhere near the same pool with him didn't help matters. His teacher attempted to force him until he started hyperventilating and wetted himself in front of everyone._

 _Will ran for the showers after that, and kept scrubbing himself long after his skin had turned red. It was a small mercy that the scalding water washed away his tears. It didn't do anything to hide his trembling, though._

 _He thought he was fast enough. That he'd be able to escape without having to face anyone. Until he heard voices behind him. One of them was Owen. "So the freak's scared of water, huh?" the boy he thought might become his friend sneered. "You think you can sneak away without having to pay just because your parents are made of money? No way."_

 _They grabbed him, and blindfolded him. At least four of them. And no matter how hard he fought back they wouldn't let go. His heart hammered so badly that he feared it might burst when he smelled chlorine. "No…!" he whimpered in a tone that might've embarrassed him under different circumstances. "No, no, don't…! Please…!"_

 _"Oh man, is it gonna wet itself again?"_

 _"Nah." Owen sounded genuinely disgusted. Will didn't think he'd forget that tone, or how it made him feel, for as long as he lived. "I bet the freak's enjoying this."_

 _They all laughed. And kept laughing as they dragged him up the stairs, higher and higher. Will's terror intensified when he began to realize just where he was being taken._

 _"Never, ever come here again", Owen hissed. And shoved. Will fell, and fell, for what felt like decades. He crashed into a wall of concrete-hard water. Then he didn't feel anything at all._

 _The other kids kept laughing until they realized that he wasn't coming back to surface._ /

* * *

/ _Lila made Clint hope – no matter how feebly and briefly – that maybe there was something good still waiting for him. That maybe he deserved love, after all. Or at least a friend. She believed in him. And more than that, she made him feel like he wasn't a bad person._

 _Then she was gone. The very last person he'd still had left who cared. Clint was all alone in the world once more._

 _It was the hardest and bravest decision he'd ever made since sending his brother away. But Clint decided that he wanted to, needed to, say goodbye to the most precious person he'd had since his real family. So, his knees almost too weak to carry him and his eyes full of tears he was sick of shedding, he made his way to Lila's funeral. His hands trembled so badly that he almost dropped the beautiful wild-flowers he'd picked._

 _His courage nearly failed him when he saw just how many people were about to attend the ceremony. Then he thought about his friend, and decided that he owed her this much. Even though he hated her a little for not telling him that she was sick. He could've helped, could've…_

 _"What the hell do you think you're doing here, you stinking piece of filth?" a sudden, hostile voice cut his thoughts._

 _Clint jumped despite himself, but tried to seem confident when he faced the man glaring at him like he was a pest. He swallowed. "I'm… I was her friend. She was my best friend…"_

 _The man sneered. "My daughter would've never befriended someone from a family like yours. I raised her better than that."_

 _Clint lifted his chin, anger boiling and nearly making his tears fall. "Well. I guess she was a better person than you raised her to be."_

 _The slap came so quickly that it took him a while to realize what happened._

 _The voice speaking next was far more unexpected. "Strike him again, Tim…", his adoptive father snarled from somewhere behind him. "… and I'll beat the shit out of you, your kid's funeral day or not."_

 _Lila's father, Tim apparently, sneered. "Oh yeah? So only you get to hit him?"_

 _His adoptive father's face obtained a look Clint knew far too well and he tensed up, held his breath. Braced himself. But on the last minutes the men's wives appeared. The boy was too overwhelmed to comprehend what was being said. And then he was dragged away, the flowers he knew Lila would've loved slipping from his grasp. Just like his chance to say goodbye._

 _His adoptive mother was wiping her eyes when they made it to the car and trembled pitiably. His adoptive father, who reeked so badly of alcohol that it was nauseating, was seething. Which promised that nothing good was to come. Barney gave him a dry look. "You just had to do it, huh? You just had to push him. You just had to make friends with someone from that family."_

 _Clint was just a young child. He had no idea what he'd done wrong, why everyone was so mad at him. He missed his friend, so much that it felt like his heart was torn to pieces. And finally, much against his will, he burst into tears._

 _His adoptive father's head turned instantly, a horrible look rising to the man's face. "Stop that whining, right now!" The man's lips kept moving, but no more words were heard._

 _Barney, his eyes directed ahead, gasped. His adoptive mother screamed. His adoptive father never got the chance to turn his gaze on the road._

 _A deafening crash wiped away everything, and Clint wondered if it was what dying felt like._ /

* * *

Looking at the man across from him, Ethan had hard time convincing himself that it wasn't Will. The only difference he could spot were the eyes. They were those of someone who'd seen far too much, but they didn't have the haunted echo Will's did. Neither twin had led an easy life. But Clint had something that helped his heart become a little more whole.

"How many kids do you have?"

Clint's eyebrow bounced up. The man's jawline tightened for a few seconds in consideration before the words finally came. "Three." Clearly trusting him with that knowledge was a massive step the Avenger wasn't sure he was ready to take. Eyebrows furrowed with confusion and mistrust. "What gave me away?"

"You keep brushing your phone every ten seconds, which means that you're waiting for a chance to call someone. Most likely home." Ethan nodded towards a nearby table, where a little girl was telling her mom something excitedly. "And I notice the way you keep glancing towards her."

Clint pursed his lips. The man even tried to grin, although the tense shoulders refused to relax. "Impressive", the archer admitted.

"Not really." Ethan didn't have the heart to point out that he wouldn't have been able to notice either thing if the other man wasn't too emotionally overwhelmed to maintain full self-control. "I'm… glad you have people to go home to." His heart constricted hellishly when a brief but excruciating flash of Julia's smiling face came to his mind.

"And I'm sorry you're missing yours." Taking a sip of coffee, Clint nodded towards his left ring-finger. It wasn't until then Ethan noticed that he'd been scratching it.

This whole mess was doing a number on them all.

They both drifted deep in thought for the longest time. Processing and evaluating. It was Clint who took the first step. "How much has Will told you about his past?"

This time Ethan drank some coffee, wondering how to answer without betraying his friend's trust. "Not much." Which didn't make the bits and pieces he'd discovered any more pleasant. "About his adoptive family. I… had no idea he was adopted before this."

Clint's eyes flashed form hurt, even though the man was quick to try and disguise it. It took a mighty while before the ache subsided enough to allow the archer to speak. "I…" The man cleared his throat. "I was supposed to keep him safe. That was my job, because he was always sick. It was what mom told me to do." The eyes meeting his were harder than steel and rawer than a wide-open wound. "Whatever you think about me right now… Remember that what I did… It was to keep him safe. How the hell was I supposed to know…?" The man cut himself off sharply and looked away, focusing on something outside the window only he could see.

Ethan inhaled a deep breath. "I'm not trying to judge you. I'm trying to understand what happened." What, exactly, caused such an agonizing rift between the twins.

"Admirable." Clint seemed almost amused. And exhausted. "Also stupid."

Ethan mused, with a hint of mirth that hardly suited the somber situation, that those two words described him fairly well.

"What happened?" Ethan knew that he was sailing treacherous, dangerous waters. But since when had he balked in the face of an impossible mission? "The day you were separated?"

If Clint was tense before, that question turned the man into stone. At least a full minute passed by in a stiff, suffocating silence. "I told him to walk away. And he left me behind." The Avenger expelled what had to be most of the air in his lungs, his gaze and thoughts somewhere far away. "For years I thought that he was somewhere out there, living the perfect life. Should've known that one of us couldn't be that lucky."

"And for years he thought that you hated him enough to send him away." Ethan couldn't even imagine how much that had to hurt. To have a mother the kind the twins did, and to lose a brother.

Clint's eyes met his again. And flashed dangerously, suggesting that he'd crossed a line or was dangerously close to doing so. "All I wanted was that he'd be happy."

"And you couldn't stand the thought of him being happy without you."

Judging by the look aimed his way, it was a lucky thing he didn't get the rest of the coffee or something far more dangerous thrown at him. "For someone who said he isn't judging…", Clint hissed venomously. "… you're doing a lot of that. Especially for someone who isn't even family."

Ethan shrugged, not so easily offended. "Until recently I was the closest thing to a family he had." Which was really sad, if he really thought about it.

Clint's shoulders slumped. The man's teeth made a sound at how tightly they were gritted together. "Well. You've done a lot better job at being his family than I ever did."

Ethan had no idea what to say to that.

* * *

Sparring with Clint… was much like playing with fire. He was deathly skilled, unpredictable and didn't hesitate to play dirty if the situation called for it. Facing Will, Natasha discovered, was something of an opposite. Where Clint was fire, Will was ice. Equally skilled and dangerous, but cold and clinical in his moves. Harsh and merciless. Eventually they were both panting, adrenaline coursing through their veins.

"So?" Will somehow squeezed from between pants. "Did I pass the inspection?"

Natasha drew in a breath and nodded curtly, barely fighting the urge to glare at her opponent.

Will looked at her. And seemed to see more than he should've, eyes every bit as sharp as his twin's. "He never told you about me, did he?" The hurt in that tone was poorly disguised. The agent gulped. "That's why you're so upset."

Natasha clenched her jaw. She hated it when Clint played that game with her. She discovered that she detested it every bit as much with his brother. "I'd be an idiot if I missed how badly it hurts him to have you here." A wild beast going straight for the jugular. Subtlety had never been her specialty, especially when someone annoyed her. "What did you do to hurt him so much?"

The way Will shuddered almost made her regret her words. He lifted his chin, pulling himself together visibly. "The one thing I was supposed to never do. I left him behind."

"Why did you abandon him?"

There was nothing amused or joyful to Will's grin. "Because he told me to. He shouted at my face that he didn't want me for a brother anymore. So I walked away, and I wasn't supposed to ever bother him again."

Natasha arched an eyebrow. She didn't even really remember her birth-family anymore, and she couldn't even imagine how close the bond of identical twins was. To picture such a relationship being severed… "And you believed him?"

Will exhaled harshly. It wheezed. "You know how good of an actor he can be, don't you? And…" The man looked away. "He'd spent all our lives looking after me. It… wouldn't have been a surprise if he really got sick of me."

Natasha nodded slowly. Trying to process what she was hearing. "Why did he chase you away?"

Will snorted. It was a bitter sound, hurt somewhere close to where her heart was supposed to be. "Because he thought that I'd get the perfect life. That I'd be happy and healthier somewhere far away from him."

Natasha sighed heavily. "He still has the annoying habit of imagining that he knows what's best for everyone." Far too often it'd resulted to emotional or physical agony for the Hawk. She let her eyes linger on the man, saw all the tension and the guarded posture. "I guess things didn't turn out the way he imagined."

"Do I look happy to you?" Catching his unintended and most likely uncharacteristic slip, Will groaned and rubbed his face roughly with one hand. "Sorry. None of this mess is your fault. Or his. Just…" He trailed off.

The silence which followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Eventually Natasha brought it to an end. "You've had it rough. And I'm sorry about that." No questions, no guesses, no well-meaning but hollow comfort. That was… oddly refreshing. Her eyes were sharp, those of a predator stalking its prey. "But that idiot has been family since he saved my life although it could've gotten him killed. And even though you're actual family… I don't want you anywhere near him if all you bring him is pain and confusion. Is that understood?"

Did one corner of Will's lips twitch? The man nodded. "Understood."

"Good." Natasha turned and began to walk away. "I'm getting us some ice. My knuckles are bruised and so are yours."

She was almost out of earshot when Will called out to her. "Natasha?" She didn't look back towards him, but there was something like relief in his voice. "I'm glad that he found friends like you. That he found people who deserve him."

Natasha had no idea what to say to that.

* * *

It was ridiculous, really. Will was fully aware that his brother was in the very same building. If he managed to convince himself to leave the room that'd been given to him he would've found his twin easily. But every time he considered taking that step his feet turned to lead, and something inside him shuddered a painful 'NO'. He even had Clint's phone number. And eventually his phone was in his hand, a message already written.

' _I think we need to finally talk this out like the adults we're supposed to be._ '

Seconds ticked by while he stared at the words. Breathed in, out, and again. Then deleted the whole message.

The mental image of their mom's face crumbling in disappointment and heartbreak only made the ache and sense of failure worse.

At that exact moment Clint stood behind his door, had been there for quite some time, both fists balled. The archer breathed in, out and again. Then raised one fist to knock. And dropped it almost instantly, as tough someone had cut a string or flicked a switch.

The mental image of their mom's face crumbling in disappointment and heartbreak only made the ache and sense of failure worse.

Will's head rose, like the agent had sensed something while he turned his gaze slowly towards the door. Clint's fist twitched, then balled more tightly seconds before he turned and walked away. Just as unable to turn back as Will was unable to get up and go to him.

Not much later the clock struck midnight, signaling wasted time and the end of a shared birthday they'd forgotten and their friends didn't know about.

* * *

The twins were too overwhelmed to approach each other. But there was a funeral to be arranged, a once deeply troubled and burdened woman to be laid to rest. In the soothing light of the following morning Pepper decided that someone in the ridiculously huge building had to act like a proper adult. And, with a solemn sigh, she came to the conclusion that once again it'd have to be her.

Armed with the best bakery-goods she could find from the kitchen area and sickeningly strong coffee, she began her mission. She was furiously determined. Until she realized, with the help of a computerized voice's report, that she was also too late.

Both twins had departed from the Tower.

What she didn't know while she fought to not curse out loud, was that the twins weren't far. One was five blocks away. Running like the devil itself was chasing him as long ago buried memories tormented his mind. The other lay on a park's bench only six blocks away, heavily unconscious and deathly pale, his lips already carrying a hint of blue. None of the many people passing by did a thing to help him, few even paid attention. If they bothered to check they would've noticed that he was barely breathing.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Ooooh no… This DOES NOT sound good…! (winces) Poor twins! They've had it so rough, and the road is still so very rocky. We'll see just where this new development leads…

SOOOOOO… Was that worth the wait at all? Would you like to read more soon? PLEASE, do let me know! I'd LOVE to hear from you.

Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	6. Aching Hearts

A/N: Phew! Everyone still alive after the cliffie? Good! (grins sheepishly) BUT, before moving ahead…

THANK YOU, so much, for your reviews, love and support! This story's faced FAR TOO MANY unforgivably long updating-gaps. But for you it's come back, every single time, and here we are! Starting to approach the (more or less bitter) end. So THANK YOU! (HUGS)

Awkay, before I go all sappy on you… Let's go! I REALLY hope you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Chapter 6 of 10 – Aching Hearts

* * *

/ _Will woke up in a hospital. He had no idea who saved him, or how he was still alive. The only visible sign of his… ordeal, as the adults delicately called it, was a wound on his temple from where he hit it to the bottom of the pool. Looking at him, no one would've been able to see the trauma he'd been through. That seemed to be almost bigger of a relief to his adoptive parents than him still being alive._

 _The only person who actually talked to him about what happened was the school's headmaster. The man begged that he wouldn't make a big deal out of nothing, because apparently Owen and his goons came from rich, powerful families. Like Will would've done that, even if he could've. He was so ashamed that he never wanted anyone from his old school to see him again. He tried to seek comfort from his adoptive mother, desperate to hear someone say that he'd be kept safe and protected, now. She pretended that nothing ever happened, and whenever he or anyone else suggested otherwise she started to cry. His only solace was the horse, which came at the cost of having to do whatever Agatha told him to._

 _Every night he dreamt of Clint and his real mom, and wondered if they were why he deserved this._

 _As soon as his head-wound had healed enough to be hidden he was sent back to school. To a brand-new place from where he knew no one. He was absolutely terrified, and far from ready. But there was nothing he could do to stall the inevitable._

 _He was a stranger to them all. And it seemed that no one was interested in even trying to know him. It should've made him sad. Instead he was relieved._

 _He was used to being alone. In fact… After everything he'd been through, all he wanted was to be left alone. So he did what he knew best. Became invisible._

 _He did whatever Agatha asked and kept their secret. He put his all into schoolwork and brought home perfect grades. He did everything he could and beyond to be the perfect son. Because his whole world had already fallen apart once. He didn't think he would've been able to take it happening again._

 _Every night he lay awake in his ridiculously huge bed, eyes wide open and trembling. Dreading the nightmares he knew, with a crushing amount of certainty, to be coming. And missed Clint from the bottom of his aching heart._ /

* * *

/ _Clint woke up several times before he was properly conscious. There were people bustling around him, strangers. Too many people. Too much noise. The stench of a hospital made him want to throw up._

 _He wanted Will. He wanted his mother. He wanted to go home._

 _Once a sad-faced, middle aged woman was looking down at him. "Clint? Can you hear…?" He drifted out of awareness before she could finish._

 _And then, finally, he really woke up. This time there was a different woman sitting beside what turned out to be his hospital bed. She'd pulled her long, greyish-brown hair to a ponytail, and there were bags under her pale-blue eyes. The thing he'd remember the clearest, though, for the rest of his life, was the piercing smell of her perfume. And the sad look she gave him. "Hey, Clint. Try not to move much. I'm Irene, a social worker." That definitely didn't sound promising, especially to someone with his history. She gave him a few moments to process. "You've been in an accident. Do you remember?"_

 _Clint nodded slowly. He… thought he remembered, at least. His adoptive family came to pick him up, there was a fight and… His eyes widened. "… mom?" He didn't know what else to call her, nor did he care much in the current situation. "Barney? Where…?" Where were they? Were they okay? What happened?_

 _Irene took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, but your parents… They didn't make it. Your brother… He's still fighting. We need to give him some time."_

 _Clint felt like he'd been sinking into a sea of ice-water. He stared, and stared, but absolutely nothing made sense to him. Aside the sensation of falling, spiraling down. Or was it drowning?_

 _For the second time his whole world exploded to pieces._

 _Clint had very vague memories of the days to come. They probably kept him too medicated to remember properly. He was in incredible agony, emotionally and physically. Fought everything and everyone with all his might, lashed out at anyone attempting to approach him._

 _He didn't want them to fix him, he wanted his family, the real one!_

 _Eventually, despite being far from the condition for such, Clint crawled out of his bed and began his search. As it turned out he didn't have to go very far. Barney was in the room right next to his._

 _True, Barney wasn't Will. And honestly, the older boy was a pretty lousy brother. But… He wanted someone, anyone, no matter how little he liked to admit it. He needed to feel like he wasn't all alone in the world again, even if it was all a lie._

 _Clint froze by the room's doorway, his eyes widening. All the tubes and machines… The bruising marring his adoptive brother's far too pale skin… He was about to run away like a coward when the older boy shifted. "Barney?" he whispered, limping a tentative step forward. "I…" What could he possibly say? What words would be enough when…? He gulped, a horrible stinging sensation taking over his eyes. "I'm sorry."_

 _So quickly that he jumped Barney's gaze met his. He didn't think he'd ever seen the kind of anger and hatred he did in the older boy's eyes. "Sorry?" his adoptive brother hissed. "You're sorry?" The boy pushed himself to a sitting position although it obviously hurt. Slowly yet surely tears began to roll. "This… This is all your fault! They… They took you into our house, and you killed them! It's your fault that I'm a pathetic orphan, too!" The further Barney went, the more volume his voice got. Until he bellowed the last lines. "I don't care how sorry you are! I'll never forgive you for this!"_

 _Clint couldn't take it. Couldn't handle the weight of Barney's accusation on top of his own. So, like the coward he was, he spun around and dashed away, as quickly as he could._

 _Not fast enough. Barney's last, painfully slashing jab got him. "You think you can run away from this, huh? I won't let you!"_

 _Clint didn't know how long passed or how far he got. But eventually he felt a pair of arms wrapping around him. Holding him, trapping him – his mind couldn't distinguish any difference. And there in the unwanted embrace he screamed at the top of his lungs, howled out his heart and soul until there seemed to be nothing left of him. Eventually the sedative finally took effect and swept him away._ /

* * *

It was no secret that Steve enjoyed his morning jogs. He was at the very start of one when he noticed a figure lay on a park's bench. Decision made almost instantly, he began to approach where other people looked away and hurried on. His eyebrows furrowed when recognition dawned. "Clint?" What was his friend doing there? "What…?" All words got stuck in his throat while several realizations came at once.

The man in front of him wasn't Clint, because there wasn't a scar like that on the archer's temple. And Will obviously wasn't doing well. The agent's eyes were closed, there was practically no color on his skin and his lips…

"Will?" Steve shook the other's shoulder, first gently, then much harder. The man's whole body lolled listlessly as a response. The soldier's stomach tightened uncomfortably. Was Will even breathing…? "WILL!" _No, no, no…!_

Later, much later, the thing he'd remember the clearest was the chilling, utterly serene look on Will's face.

* * *

Clint ran, and ran. Until it felt like his lungs had been set on fire. Like it would've been possible to run away from everything that was going on. Until he had no other choice but to stop before he would've stumbled. He leaned heavily against a tree, panting hard as he waited for the searing sensation in his eyes to go away.

He knew what he'd have to do, of course. What he was running away from. Which didn't make facing it any easier.

He was so overwhelmed that Natasha's familiar voice caught him off guard, made him shudder. "I had a feeling you might come here to sulk." Something about her tone made alarm bells go off in his head.

He looked up. Saw her expression. And felt his world tilt on its axis. "What's wrong?"

"It's Will."

* * *

It was a state of chaos. Responding to Steve's urgent message both teams rushed to the hospital as one. As far as they were concerned both twins were family, now.

Unfortunately the hospital staff didn't seem to share that sentiment. Realizing that they weren't actual family, they refused to offer any information. Just that they'd do everything they could.

That was all the knowledge they had for a very long hour. Until a solemn faced, visibly exhausted doctor rushed into the room. "We're still trying to get the permission to access Mr. Brandt's medical files. Do you know if he has history with any type of a heart condition?"

That… was not something they would've known to expect.

"He does." Ethan's words were a surprise, too. "He… went through surgery when he was a child. It was supposed to fix the problem."

"Has… something stressful taken place recently?"

The ensuing awkward silence could've been cut by a knife. Benji cleared his throat. "He, ah… lost his mom. And there's been… family issues."

The doctor nodded slowly, his expression between judgmental, curious and alarmed. "I see." There might've been even more uncomfortable questions if his pager didn't come to life just then. The man gritted his teeth upon seeing the message. "I need to go." And just like that he was walking away.

"Hey!" Tony was the fastest and called out. "You'll keep us updated, right?"

The doctor was quite good at pretending that he didn't hear.

"Heart condition?" Jane's tone was probably sharper than she'd intended. Just like her piercing gaze. "You're saying that he has a history with a heart condition, and he's been doing fieldwork?"

Ethan inhaled and exhaled, fighting visibly to maintain his usual calm demeanor. "Like I said to the doctor, those problems were supposed to be a thing in the past. And he's been on the field as little as possible, just in case." Until Ghost Protocol. Until jumping into an oven. Essentially.

"How, exactly, did he get the 'a-okay' for that?" Tony asked with genuine disbelief.

Ethan sighed. "All he had to do was find the right doctor to sign a permission. You'd be surprised by how little most of those working for the IMF care. I guess all he had to do was promise that he knows his limits."

A long, sullen silence fell as they all attempted to digest what they just heard. "We…" Benji licked his lips and blinked rapidly. "We should've noticed something, right? I mean…" In that very moment he looked heartbreakingly young and small. "We were supposed to look out for him. How did we miss this?"

Tony gave the man a tiny, sad smile and squeezed the computer genius' shoulder. "You shouldn't beat yourself up about it too much", the billionaire advised, sounding shockingly mature. "If he's anything like Feathers, there's no way you could've noticed."

"Noticed what?" Clint's voice made them all jump. There was a great deal of alarm in the archer's eyes as they darted around, demanding answers. "What's going on?"

* * *

Long hours followed those preceding them. Eventually the crowd gathering into the room began to disperse. Some headed to get lunch although no one was hungry. Others announced that they needed to stretch their legs. In the end it was just Ethan, Clint and Benji, with the last mentioned having dozed off to a light, stress-induced nap.

"When… When I first saw him again… I was so mad that I could barely look at him." Clint's voice was quiet, full of embarrassment and a million other emotions the man didn't even try to hide. "But… I looked at you. Saw how protective you are of him." The archer's gaze seemed to see more than it should've. "You… know him better than I do, right now. And you know something I should, too."

Ethan shifted with discomfort. He didn't appreciate being placed into this position. "If he wanted you to know, he would've told you."

Sadness filled Clint's eyes. "No, he wouldn't have. He never has. Not even when we were kids. So… I need you to tell me for him. Because… I want to understand."

The twins were torn apart when they were kids, Ethan remembered in a sudden flash. Whatever bond they used to have… It was shattered. And this might be the only chance to try and repair it.

So, careful to not rouse Benji, Ethan told Clint what he knew. About Will's adoptive family. About Agatha. About what followed. And hoped, from the bottom of the heart he'd done his best to keep hidden, that his friend would forgive him, if…

No, there was no 'if'.

Unbeknownst to the two, they were observed. Jane and Natasha stood by the room's doorway, just out of earshot. And even though Clint eventually buried his face into both hands the women gave barely visible, identical secret smiles of relief. Hoping, despite neither being an optimist, that perhaps something good might come out of this mess.

Sometimes healing has to begin with a lot of hurting.

* * *

Laura was far too used to Clint being in danger. On missions, facing enemies she was quite happy not knowing too much about. And now… Now he was just facing his long-lost brother. So why did she feel that same, far too familiar restlessness? Like something was horribly wrong?

She tensed up instinctively when her phone began to ring. Bracing herself, she checked the caller ID. It wasn't Fury, Natasha or any of the Avengers, but Clint himself. She frowned, the alarm from before growing. "Hey", she greeted softly. "I was just thinking about you. How are things?"

She expected great many things as a response, but somehow she never foresaw her husband breaking down to tears.

* * *

Aside Clint both teams were there again, like one big bizarre family, when the doctor from before returned. The man seemed even more exhausted than earlier but not defeated. That was a small comfort.

"How is he?" Ethan demanded immediately.

The doctor's jawline tightened from a stifled yawn. "I'm sorry, but… I'm only at liberty to tell his emergency contact…"

"We are his emergency contacts", Jane pointed out, sounding every bit as patient as she wasn't.

The doctor shifted. "I'm afraid we haven't been able to access his medical files yet. Until we have…"

"I'm immediate family." Clint's voice made the man shudder like he'd been shot. The doctor spun around quickly to meet the Hawk's sharp eyes. "So spill."

The identical appearance seemed to catch the doctor off guard for a moment. The man cleared his throat before speaking. "He's… not awake yet. But… He's finally stable enough for one visitor at a time, if you'd like to see him. Briefly."

All eyes were on Clint as the rest of them waited for his decision. It seemed to take forever before he finally nodded. "Where is he?"

* * *

Clint took several deep breaths. Gathered all his courage. And entered the room.

The first thing he noticed was all the machinery. And the far from steady, unnaturally loud beeps. He focused on the numbers on the screen because they were the easiest part of it all to face.

Will definitely wasn't doing well, that much was obvious even with his limited medical knowledge. But the man would be alright, eventually. He'd have to be.

Clint swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to smash something. No. There'd been more than enough anger already, for far too long. It was high time to let go. No matter how hard it'd be.

Yet again Clint gathered himself. Used up more courage than he really had. And looked towards Will. Instantly his heart ached as a response to his brothers' agony.

Seeing Will there, so still and pale that he seemed almost lifeless, reminded him far too much of days he'd imagined forgotten.

* * *

/ _"Mommy, what's wrong with Will?"_

 _"His heart has so much love and life in it that it's having hard time working properly, love. But don't worry. He'll feel better soon."_ /

* * *

The weight of the world fell on Clint's shoulders, making them slump and his whole body sag to the chair beside his brother's bed. There was so much he wanted to say. But now… Now all those words got stuck into his throat.

Clint gulped, staring at Will's face. Hoping to see even the slightest trace of life, of hope. There was nothing.

"I… I didn't know", he whispered. The words slipping out before he could even think about it. "I didn't know."

For so long he did everything he could to protect his brother. Including sending the boy away. But this… This wasn't something he could shield Will from, then or now. And that realization… It hurt almost more than not having known. Of this. Or of the far, far from perfect life he pushed his brother into.

All he wanted was Will to be happy and healthy, and he made such a mess of everything…!

A choked sound erupted through Clint's throat. It took ridiculously long before he realized that it was a sob. "I'm sorry." Because… What else was there to say now, when…? "I… I'm so sorry."

Will said nothing, nor did the man wake up.

Clint knew that it was stupid. And most likely useless. But before he gave himself the chance to change his mind he took Will's hand, careful not to disturb the wires attached to it. He squeezed lightly, almost cautiously. Hoping that it might remind his brother the man wasn't alone in the world anymore.

There was so much they needed to sort out. Hurt feelings that'd take a long time to soothe. But if they'd made it through everything life had thrown at them so far… They'd sort out their relationship, too.

But for that they needed a chance.

All of a sudden, without any warning, Will's hand twitched in his. As though attempting to hold back. Tense and full of desperate hope, Clint searched his brother's face, trying to discover even a hint of change. "Will?"

There was a blip of machinery, much sharper than those before, then another, before the sound transformed into a steady screech.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Have you noticed all the hints towards Will having been a sickly child? This was where I was going.

So… Yeah. That was mean. (winces) Poor twins! Is Will going to make it through this? And what would it do to Clint if he wouldn't? (gulps)

Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that you'll all stay tuned for that one.

Take care!


	7. Let the Pain Go

A/N: PHEW! Guess what? We're facing another update, which means that this fic's updating schedule is FINALLY back on track. Yay?

BUT, before letting you move on to the actual story… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for you reviews and support! They're the wind beneath my typing-wings, ya know? (grins, and HUGS)

Awkay, before I get all silly… LET'S GO! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

 **TRIGGER WARNING** for mentions of drug use.

* * *

Chapter 7 of 10 – Let the Pain Go

* * *

/ _Years flew by. Agatha and her horse became things in the past. Only, they were still fresh and wide-open wounds in Will's mind. Just like his birth-family._

 _He did whatever he could to get the attention of his adoptive parents. For a long time me stayed close, attempted to seek comfort and approval. Eventually, when being alone began to hurt even more, he started lashing out. He let his grades drop on purpose in faint hopes that it might earn him a moment of their time. When he was finally old enough he started bringing home dates he knew his so-called parents would detest and ensured that they were seen. He stopped doing that when all it did was make his adoptive mother cry and his adoptive father punch him. When all else failed he finally cracked, and screamed at the top of his lungs. Unleashed all of the ache and venom years upon years had gathered._

 _His adoptive parents had him referred to a new psychiatrist. Will fooled this one like he'd fooled all those before her, because despite good intentions she couldn't have given him any of those things he desperately needed. And he realized that if he wanted to stop hurting, stop feeling like he was drowning, he'd have to find a way to stop it on his own._

 _He was in high school, at a house-party he'd been invited to because someone had felt sorry for him. And once he'd consumed enough alcohol, more than he should've… He discovered that people actually liked him when he spouted jokes and sarcastic remarks. People didn't know how to deal with the pain of others, and they relaxed when they imagined that he wasn't hurting anymore._

 _A boy he dimly recognized as a quarterback patted his back roughly and grinned dopily. "You know… You're not so bad, after all, when you loosen up. You know…" The boy looked around to make sure that no one else was listening. "If you_ really _wanna loosen up… There's this stuff you've gotta try."_

 _Will struggled not to shift with discomfort, feeling a little too sober. "Yeah? Does it give a good buzz?" What was he doing?_

 _The quarterback's grin widened. "Hell yeah! Makes you feel like you're on top of the world."_

 _Will knew, from the beginning, that it was a huge mistake. That he should've walked away and never looked back. Instead he followed, blatantly ignoring the voice in his head that sounded like Clint screaming at him to stop._

 _The stuff he was given… It made his heart race like it was about to explode, it made him feel like flying. The nausea which followed afterwards… It was something horrific. But he also knew that he'd try again. Because for those few hours of bliss he was finally free of all pain._ /

* * *

/ _For the second time in his Clint was in an orphanage. He was in pain, physically and emotionally. Angry at the whole world that'd now taken two families from him. But at least it was an environment he knew, and he was quick to resign himself to the thought that no one would ever adopt him. Want him. Choose him._

 _He was alone in the world again. But that was familiar, too. At least that way he couldn't bring pain and misery to anyone else, ever again._

 _Barney definitely wasn't adapting. The older boy tormented him as much as he could, and treated the adults around them in a way that made Clint flinch several times. He didn't know where Barney sneaked into during the dark hours of night and was probably happier that way._

 _Five months after they were brought in he was dreaming of his birth-family, in the middle of something that was a mixture of a nightmare and wishful thinking. A harsh, almost painful hand grabbing his shoulder and shaking woke him. "Brat, get up, now. We're leaving."_

 _Clint blinked owlishly and yawned. His stomach squirmed uncomfortably at the thought of leaving the last remnants of familiarity and normalcy behind. "Go where?" he inquired quietly, sounding even younger than he was._

 _"Stop being annoying and asking questions. Or I'll leave you behind. You owe me, remember? For killing my parents."_

 _Perhaps he would've been better off getting left behind. Maybe they both would've been. But losing the last thing like a family member he had… The thought was unbearable. As was guilt. So he obeyed meekly, his heart racing as he wondered just what he was getting himself into._

 _They walked and walked. Until Clint was sure that his feet wouldn't be able to handle another step. Finally, at the break of dawn, his exhausted eyes widened at the sight of a circus._

 _'Carson Carnival of Traveling Wonders'_

 _They found a man who seemed barely conscious while smoking hungrily. A harsh glare was aimed first at him, then at Barney. "What the hell of 'Get lost' gave you the impression that I'd be interested in having two more mouths to fill?" the man spat._

 _Barney shrugged. Only a careful eye caught the hints of fear on his face. "These mouths are cheap?"_

 _The man rolled his eyes and threw away the cigarette. "Stop wasting my time and go back home." With that verdict he turned and began to walk away. "Useless brats…"_

 _Clint's blood boiled from rage and terror. They had no other place to go. If this man would reject them… His sharp eyes caught a knife on the ground. Without a thought he grabbed and threw it, purposefully missing the stranger by much less than an inch. "We don't have a home!" he growled. "And we're not useless!"_

 _"Perhaps you're not, with an aim like that", a new voice mused from behind them. He looked over his shoulder to encounter a pair of curious eyes. "That was impressive."_

 _The first man snorted. "That was just dumb luck."_

 _Clint responded by grabbing a stone and tossing it, more pleased than he should've been when it met the middle of the accusing man's forehead._

 _The second man laughed. "I don't think so." The eyes looking at him were even more curious, now. "I'm Jacques, and he's Buck. Who knows… Maybe we can make a star out of you. Buck could definitely teach you a thing or two."_

 _In his immense relief over not having been rejected Clint failed to see the chilling amount of hatred and jealousy that'd filled Barney's eyes._ /

* * *

When Clint didn't return for a full hour both teams began to grow… concerned. The doctor only allowed short visits. Had something gone wrong?

Out of a silent agreement those of them who'd had the patience to sit instead of pacing got up, and they began to make their way towards Will's room. They weren't quite sure what they expected to find. The rather chilling reality made them all freeze.

A trashcan had been kicked all the way across the room and it carried a lot of visible damage. Clint stood in the middle of the room, back towards them and breathing hard. Will and the man's hospital bed were missing.

Benji swallowed thickly, a fist of ice squeezing his whole chest. "What… What happened?" he managed. Just this once he wasn't ashamed of his high-pitched tone.

Clint took a couple of more breaths. "Complications." His tone was clipped, lost. The man balled both fists, which was when they noticed the bruised knuckles. "They… took him away. Didn't tell me a thing."

Benji felt cold before. Those words… They sucked out what little oxygen there was in his lungs.

"Clint." Ethan's voice was the same he used during the direst situations on missions. Tight, professional, barely under control. "Is he…?" Even the seasoned super-agent couldn't bring himself to voice the last word. Not when this wasn't just a mission, but a friend. Hell, someone to be considered family.

For several endlessly long moments there was no response. Not even a reaction. The one they eventually got was barely audible. "I don't know." Then, so quickly that they didn't get the chance to really see his face or ask a thing, the Hawk spun around and marched out of the room.

Instinctively needing to try and fix at least one thing, Ethan moved to follow. Natasha's hand grabbing the agent's painfully tense shoulder was enough to stop him. "Don't", she advised in a clipped tone. "Not when he's… like that. Let him lick his wounds. He'll come back when he's ready to face us." To some that might've sounded harsh. But both teams had spent enough time with one twin to understand.

Ethan nodded sharply and gritted his teeth so hard it made a sickening sound.

The quiet taking over the room was suffocating. "Let's just… Let's wait here", Tony finally suggested, unable to take the silence any longer. "They won't tell us anything, so… Then we'd see when they bring him back." Because Will never making it through this… It just wasn't an option.

None of them noticed Benji leaving the room.

* * *

Clint just saw the brother he wasn't supposed to ever see again stop breathing altogether. Had to endure watching the man's ill heart stop, unable to do a thing to stop it or help. Now he needed somewhere he could breathe. Because his own heart felt like it'd been torn to tiny, sharp pieces.

He charged forward blindly, ignoring the people he bumped into. Somehow he made it out of the building and gasped loudly, desperately, upon facing fresh air. It wasn't enough to fill his lungs. He barely made it to a bench before he slumped, face buried into both hands. Once down he continued to pant helplessly, and tried to somehow will his brother to keep breathing as well.

This was his doing. He couldn't keep Will safe, instead he made things worse. And now… Now…

Steps approached him slowly, almost cautiously. Clint found himself tensing up instinctively. Apparently one of his teammates didn't get the memo that company was the last thing he wanted right now. Hoping that he wouldn't sound as harsh as a part of him wanted to, he lifted his gaze. All intended words got caught into his throat.

Benji stood a few steps away with a look of uncertainty on his face. The man's eyes seemed moist, or perhaps it was a trick caused by sunlight. "I don't wanna talk or anything. Just…" The Britt swallowed thickly. "I just wanna have one of you within sight."

Clint shuddered and looked away. What was he supposed to say to that? He gulped, which was no help against the horrible taste sitting in his throat. "Benji, I'm…"

"Oh, shut up and stop being a bloody moron." Benji aimed for a scoff but it sounded more like a sob. "You're shoulders aren't broad enough to carry the weight of the whole bloody world. That's what my mum used to say."

Clint couldn't quite smile. But he felt marginally lighter. "Have you been good at following that advice?"

Benji flopped to the bench beside him. Then snorted. "Nah, not exactly."

Silence that had a nearly companionable air to it lingered over them. Both drifted deep in thought until Clint finally spoke. "Benji? There's…" The Avenger sighed heavily. "There's nothing you could've done to stop… this."

Benji licked his lips nervously. "Yeah, well, we… Eh… We haven't been helping, either." The man's accent was particularly thick when he was overwhelmed. "All that… insane stuff he's been pulled into with us…" He looked down in shame. "We've… done a pretty poor job at keeping him safe."

Clint shook his head. "He's never wanted to be kept safe. He's wanted a life worth living, and… you've given him that." It was something he failed to provide Will with. These people felt more like a proper family to his brother than he did, and it stung, happy as he was that his twin had the team. "That's why he's still fighting now."

Most people would've scolded him, saying that he was being stupid or sappy. Benji looked at him with big eyes. Almost like a child trying to see if the words of comfort from their parent were honest. "You think so?"

"I know so."

* * *

Several hours later the waiting was really starting to get to them. Ethan found himself pacing around restlessly, and every time he glanced towards the door to find nothing that agitation grew. Patience had never been his greatest virtue.

"You're not used to this, are you?" His gaze following the voice, he discovered Natasha watching him. "The waiting rooms. The stress."

Ethan sighed, only then realizing just how tense he was. "No, guess not", he admitted. "Does it show?"

Natasha shrugged. "Only to someone with experience." She nodded towards where Clint was talking quietly with Steve, their backs towards them. "With how many times that idiot's been in a trouble, I consider myself something of an expert."

Despite the bleak topic Ethan found himself smiling, just a little. "It never gets easier, does it?"

"No, not really." He could feel her gaze studying him, even though he was looking away. "It bothers you, doesn't it? That he didn't tell you about his condition. Or about his brother."

"Just like it bothers you that Clint never told you", he pointed out without any malice.

It was almost amusing. Two people with tremendous trust issues, upset over their friends with similar problems not having shared something important with them. Something that'd been weighing on their hearts and shoulders all their lives.

"Will… He'll pull through." Natasha sounded almost like she believed her own words. "And when he does… They'll have a lot of issues to sort out. And they'll have to go through with the funeral."

"We'll be there for them." The words came easily, with confidence. Because, really, what other alternative was there? "All of us."

Natasha looked away subtly, and it occurred to him that perhaps she'd been testing him. "Good. Because they'll need us." Suddenly her steel hard eyes softened a fraction, most likely without her noticing. "Well, at least something good has come out of all this mess."

Curious, Ethan shifted his gaze towards the same direction. There was no fighting back the tiny grin appearing to his lips. On a couch a small distance away from them Benji and Tony sat, engaged in an animated discussion. Their faces full of excitement and hands moving in wild patterns, both distracted from the stressful current situation for a few blissful moments.

"That may lead to a lot of trouble", Ethan suspected.

"It will", Natasha confirmed.

They'd face that together, too.

Whatever relief there'd been vanished like a spell had been broken when Will's doctor finally appeared. The man seemed utterly exhausted while his eyes sought and found Clint. "We were forced to perform another surgery. But… His condition is stable, at least for now."

"So…" Desperate hope shone in Benji's eyes. "He'll be okay?"

The doctor's shoulders slumped a little. "Let's just take this one hour at a time." The man focused on Clint once more. "I… have to warn you. This has all taken its toll on him. He may seem… very unwell right now."

"Just take me to him. He…" Clint's composure cracked for a few seconds and he cleared his throat to conceal it. "He hates hospitals. He shouldn't be alone."

The doctor nodded slowly, obviously wondering what to make of the man in front him. "Alright. But to avoid overwhelming him I can only promise you fifteen minutes."

Clint nodded. Something about the almost hidden defiance in his eyes reminded of a schoolboy prepared to do something forbidden. "Understood." In their minds they all wished strength and patience to the medical professionals who'd have to try and remove him from Will's side.

The doctor obviously didn't know Clint. "Good. Follow me."

Before obeying Clint gave them all a long look. Clearly seeking strength and courage. Whatever he saw, it made a fraction of the tension all over him disappear. With that mysterious something as his only shield he turned again and left, like someone heading towards a war.

* * *

Clint remembered what happened the previous time he visited his brother far too clearly. But for all his flaws he'd never been a coward, and he wasn't about to start now. And so, after several deep breaths, he braced himself and walked in. He'd been told that Will wasn't exactly doing well, of course, but still the sight caught him off guard.

In Will's current condition he couldn't be trusted to keep breathing on his own, so he'd been connected to a ventilator. Just to give him an extra chance at resting and recuperating. Clint was almost certain that there were several new tubes and wires connected to his brother. All the mechanical, clinical noise in the room chilled the archer to the bone.

Clint swallowed hard against the lump that rose to his throat. Fearing to approach after the previous time, he walked closer and sat slowly to the chair someone had left beside the bed. "Don't… Don't you dare scare me like that again. Do you hear me? We…" He shook his head. "We've got this huge mess to sort out. And… I need you here for that." _I NEED YOU._

Will offered no response, but in his current emotional state Clint chose to take the blip of a heart monitor as one.

Clint's gaze fell, and he found himself staring at his brother's hand. At the hint of blue under those fingernails. He found himself wondering if Will was feeling cold. Hoping that he wasn't making a disastrous mistake he took the hand and shivered at how cool it felt to the touch.

He gulped again and risked to tighten his hold. "You need rest, I get that. So sleep. Just… Know that I'm not letting you go anywhere, not ever again." He made the mistake of sending his brother away once. If Will would choose to _stay_ , and let him stay in his life in any way… Then he'd never make that same mistake again.

There'd be a long road ahead of them. There was no telling how things would turn out. But for now he'd wait, and hang on with tooth and nail, for both of them.

He could only hope that Will wouldn't give up, either.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: So… The fight continues. (sighs) Let's hope that Will makes it through, and they'll get the chance to sort things out! They've been through too much pain and tragedy already.

SOOOO… Was that any good, at all? Off to the trash-bin? PLEASE, do leave a note to let me know! I LOVE hearing from you.

Awkay, I REALLY need some sleep now. Until next time, folks! I REALLY hope that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	8. Scar Tissue

A/N: PHEW! I'm IMMENSELY sorry that it took me THIS long to update. Stuff… just happened since the last time I updated, and for a while I wasn't in a frame of mind to type something like this. (winces) BUT, now I'm FINALLY back! Hooray?

THANK YOU, for your amazing reviews and support! They've seriously helped keep me AND this story afloat. (HUGS) You guys are awesome!

Awkay, before I get all sappy… Let's go! We'll see where the twins are headed in this one…

 **TRIGGER WARNING** for mentions of drug use and sexual situations.

* * *

Chapter 8 of 10 – Scar Tissue

* * *

/ _By the age of sixteen Will had already been seeing a therapist for years. During that time he'd met altogether nine different psychiatrists. The best of them were eager to help but had no idea how to. The worst of them didn't care, didn't listen. With that track-record it was no surprise that they didn't notice his new… problem. Even after he became a regular user._

 _Until, of course, things reached a point where the obvious couldn't be ignored anymore._

 _It was Will's sixteenth birthday. And he wasn't sure he was ready for the gift he was about to receive. When a pair of hands advanced on his still clothed body and moved up his shirt he trembled, bracing himself. Knowing exactly what would soon be revealed and how it would be received._

 _The scowl of disgust was exactly what he'd expected. The finger poking at scar tissue made him shudder again. "What the hell is that?"_

 _Will shrugged, and hoped dearly that his true feelings didn't show. "Just something I got when I was a kid." He had a nasty feeling that his grin was closer to a grimace. "If it gives too much of a Frankenstein's Monster vibe, we can do this without the lights on."_

 _Drugs and alcohol could wipe away a lot of things. But not the look of complete, utter disgust aimed at him just then. "You know what? Let's."_

 _It was over quickly, and Will was too out of his mind from a couple of different substances to register much of it. But at least for a few moments he didn't feel cold and hollow. Did he really have the right to want anything better?_

 _Will was no expert. Still, he knew that after something like that he should've been given a kiss, a smile, something. An embrace was too much to hope for. His partner left without saying a word or looking back._

 _Will curled up as tightly as he could, facing the wall, and missed his brother and mother more than he ever had before._

 _He woke up in a hospital to learn that his still lingering heart-condition hadn't reacted well to the substance abuse. He had no idea how close to death he came. And wondered if he should've cared._

 _His adoptive father sat beside his bed when he opened his eyes, face a mask of stone and fury. With some parents such an extreme reaction might've come from worry. Not in this case. "So you're a junkie, now? You… are a disgrace", the man spat. Apparently there was no point in asking how he felt. Him being alive was enough. "You made your mother cry. Again."_

 _"She's not my mother", Will growled back, his heart aching in more ways than one._

 _"Thank god for that! I'd never father as pathetic of a son as you." It was obvious that the man meant every single word. "But unfortunately you're still our problem. We've never felt this humiliated in our lives. And I'm going to make sure that you never cause us an embarrassment like this again."_

 _The clock ticked to midnight, marking the end of a birthday no one had remembered._ /

* * *

/ _Under the training of Buck and Jacques Clint began to shine. He had the perfect aim, and on top of that he turned out to be a talented tightrope artist. The audience loved him. And, as painfully as he was sometimes beaten over failures, the boy began to feel like he'd found something of a home._

 _Unfortunately Barney didn't feel the same way. With each passing day his adoptive brother's resentment and jealousy towards him grew. Until the older boy was finally old enough to join the military. And met him with an ultimatum on what happened to be Clint's sixteenth birthday._

 _Clint stared with misery-filled eyes how the older boy packed up what little he owned. "So… You're seriously leaving?"_

 _"Yeah. I'm not gonna waste another day in this freak circus." The eyes meeting his were full of command and challenge. "If you ever were any sort of a brother to me you'll come along. We'll figure out a school or… something for you to do. We go together. That's what brothers do."_

 _The memories of the day he last saw Will cut sharper than a knife. Clint swallowed thickly and hoped that his eyes didn't seem as moist as they felt. "But… I like it here." No matter how hard and painful it got sometimes. He shifted with discomfort, not liking the look he was getting. "And… Maybe you could like it here, too. If you give this place a chance."_

 _Barney's eyes flashed. "You come with me… or you were never really my brother. Are you gonna let me down again?"_

 _Clint shivered, feeling like he'd been torn in two. "I…" He should've gone along. Because he did owe Barney after getting the boy's parents killed. But he couldn't, wasn't able to utter the words. For the first time in his life he made a selfish decision. And hated himself for it. "I can't." Not when he'd finally found a place where he could belong._

 _He should've seen the hit coming. He didn't. Barney was gone before the shockwave the attack caused faded._

 _Clint stood there for close to an hour. Paralyzed by shock and full of doubts. Until he was running, his own small bag on his shoulder. However, by the time he reached the bus-stop Barney headed to there wasn't a trace left of the boy._

 _The universe decided that his day hadn't been quite bad enough yet. Because upon returning he passed by Jacques' office. And heard something he definitely shouldn't have, something that froze him to the spot._

 _"… everything's sorted. I've got the money." Jacques snorted. "Chisholm's an idiot! Of course he doesn't suspect anything. And if he ever starts sniffing around I'll handle him." There was a pause. "Give me an hour…"_

 _Clint's ears blocked out the rest. He needed to find Buck, he decided immediately, his heart racing and breaking. How could Jacques…?_

 _Before he got anywhere, however, the door opened. Jacques stood right in front of him, something truly chilling on his face. The man sighed heavily. "Has anyone ever told you that you have this unhealthy habit of seeing and hearing too much for your own good?"_

 _Clint was an excellent fighter. Always had been. But he was no match against a much bigger man who'd spent more than half of his life training. According to medical professionals it was sheer miracle that he survived the handling Jacques gave him before leaving._

 _The clock ticked to midnight as Clint lost consciousness, marking the end of a birthday no one had remembered, and he was once again homeless, all alone in the world._ /

* * *

Will remembered, vaguely, heading for a run despite the stab-like twinges his chest-area protested with. Then… a deep, dark sea of nothing. It felt like he'd been floating in nothingness forever, and for a while he was convinced that it was what death felt like. The thought bothered him far less than it should've.

And then… Then the darkness began to drift away. Like a stage curtain rising.

The first real thing Will became aware of was pain. A lot of it. His chest felt like someone had pummeled it with a sledgehammer and he groaned, which did his also aching head no favors.

He felt needed to gasp. And cough. But apparently neither of those things were happening, because there was something stuck in his throat.

Well, that definitely didn't sit well with him.

Will was a field-agent, no matter how badly it suited someone with his health. With the experience and instincts of one he began to fumble about, determined to get rid of whatever it was keeping him from breathing properly. Something was pulled and it sent a snap of pain from the back of his hand, but he barely noticed. Nor did he notice the tiny stream of blood. Somewhere beside him beeping he hated almost as much as the inability to breathe was intensifying rapidly. It did his headache no favors.

"Will." A cool, calloused hand grabbed his. Firmly but gently. "Calm down before you hurt yourself." Clint's voice echoed painfully, but he clung to it desperately. "You, ah… went through surgery. And they had to intubate you. They'll remove the tube soon, alright? You'll be okay."

None of that made any sense to Will. What surgery was Clint talking about? He decided that it didn't matter right now. Instead he fought with all his might and succeeded in opening his eyes, just a little bit. The face above him seemed blurry but familiar.

Will didn't care if it was all a dream again, or a trick of his imagination. For now Clint was there. That knowledge was enough to lull him to back sleep.

Will had no idea how tightly he was squeezing Clint's hand.

* * *

Clint felt dizzy and out of breath when Will's doctor shooed him out of the room to let his twin rest. It was like he'd been holding his breath a little too long and was now taking the first greedy gulps. He wasn't surprised to find both teams waiting, tense and on alert. Still ready to fight.

"We saw a lot of people running there", Tony explained. "Is… he okay?" Clearly the far too recent scare Will gave them was a little too fresh of a memory.

Clint nodded once. Twice. Only just starting to believe it himself. "He woke up."

Benji and Tony were predictably loud in their delight. The rest greeted the good news – something of a miracle, really – with silent but immense gratitude. Ethan and Steve's shoulders slumped with relief. Natasha and Jane gave nearly identical, barely visible smiles.

And for the first time since the news of his birth mother's death arrived, Clint began to feel like everything was alright in his twisted, chaotic world.

Tony's eyes sparkled. "You guys know what this calls for?" The billionaire clapped his hands together theatrically. "Sh…"

"Shawarma?" This time Benji's eyes shone in a manner that promised trouble. "Definitely!"

Forty-five minutes later they sat in the waiting room, having their very own little shawarma party. It reminded Clint of the one the Avengers had after the battle of New York. Once again a team was coming together, a bigger and stronger one than before. This time the silence that lingered while they ate was companionable, not awkward.

* * *

The second time Will woke up he was a little more aware. And in a great deal of pain. Which the doctor checking up on him noticed. The older man's discomfort was almost as apparent as his. "I… saw the note about pain medication in your medical files. But under these circumstances…"

Will shook his head firmly. No matter how much it hurt. "No narcotics." He was slurring. And sounded absolutely miserable. As long as he got his message across it didn't matter.

The doctor's eyebrows furrowed even further. "Still. I urge you to reconsider…!"

"What part of 'no' don't you understand?" Clint's voice was harsh and uncompromising. "He's made his opinion known. Stop pushing him."

Will's stomach plummeted when he looked into his brother's eyes and realized what his twin had heard, saw that the secret was now out. But while the Avenger's gaze revealed that they'd talk about this later, there was no judgement or disgust. The ensuing relief was almost enough to bring tears to Will's eyes.

He hated being doped up and unwell, because it caused cracks on his hard-trained self-control.

Sleep was a welcomed friend, now. Will wasn't afraid of going under. No matter how distant they'd grown over the years, he still knew that Clint would watch his back.

* * *

The third time Will regained consciousness his team was there. He winced, as much at the exhausted faces of his friends as from immense physical discomfort. "… look so good …"

Ethan scoffed, seeming amused. "Seconds from waking up. And you're already criticizing?"

Will shrugged as much as he dared to. And tried not to grin dopily. "'s what we analysts do", he murmured.

Benji's grin rivaled the sun. "Yup. He's fine. But you…" Those eyes narrowed in a far from actually intimidating manner while the man pointed a finger at him. "… are in a lot of trouble when you get better, for all these secrets."

Oh, Will knew. Because he could tell that Benji had a million questions and he knew that it'd take a long time before Ethan would let him out of his sight without tensing up and frowning. In the past he might've been uncomfortable with such a level of concern he wasn't used to. Now…

"Get some sleep." Jane's soft voice was like a lullaby. "I'll babysit these two. Hopefully you'll be able to help me with that soon."

Now, Will fell asleep, and wondered just when he got from being lonely and homeless to finally having a real, proper family again.

* * *

Of course it was only to be expected that Will wouldn't be a model patient. It did surprise them how long he remained civil. On day two after waking up Clint showed up to see how his twin was doing and found the bed empty. He preferred not admitting even to himself how close to panicking he got, despite knowing full well that Will wouldn't have made it far. Then he heard noise from the bathroom and arched an eyebrow.

Those barely audible hisses and groans didn't sound promising.

"I'm coming to check up on you", he announced, already marching towards the toilet's door. "Either you defied the doc's direct orders to not go walking solo, or you've got a nurse in there. In any case you can only blame yourself." Before the last syllable's echo had vanished he'd pushed the door open, more than a little shocked to find it unlocked.

Will was alarmingly pale, and a bed of sweat shone on the man's forehead. But despite all the agony he had to be in the agent's attention was locked on one thing only. Clint was quick to follow the intent gaze's direction and shuddered at what he found.

Traces of an operation Will must've had as a child could still be seen all over his chest. Evidence of the new one was loud and clear. It was solid proof of just how close everything had come.

"I know that it's stupid, but… I just needed to see it." Will seemed deeply embarrassed, and hid the battered skin as quickly as he could. The wrinkled nose and grimace showed up faster than the man could hold them back, only for a few treacherous seconds but still. "I could've done without a new one."

Clint shrugged, trying hard to appear more nonchalant than he felt. "Just evidence that you won and you're still alive." After a few moments of hesitation he turned slowly and lifted the hem of his shirt, exposing the skin of his back. Along with the map of scars littering it. As soon as the sight seemed to have its desired impact he let the fabric drop. He wasn't ashamed. He just wasn't sure he was ready to feel this exposed in front of his twin yet. "See? Everyone's got their own. And it's okay. Staying here…" He gestured vaguely with his hand. "I think it's worth fighting hard enough for to get a few scars."

Will didn't seem to know what to say, how to react. Neither twin did, really. In the end fate made the decision easy on them. After such a long and hard battle Will's knees began to buckle. Clint reacted instinctively, without a thought, and was there in a flash.

"C'mon." Clint tried to sound comforting and firm, rather than annoyed and terrified. He hoped he succeeded. "This is exactly why you shouldn't be on your feet for long yet. Let's get you to bed."

Will nodded, face sweaty and ashen, and something about it reminded Clint horribly of when they were kids.

They made their way to the bed slowly. Very, very slowly. And with each step Will trembled a little more.

"I heard what you said to that doctor about pain medication." Clint knew that he was probably crossing a line but couldn't stop himself. Not when it was his job to keep his brother safe and he'd already failed so miserably. "Maybe you should…"

"No." Will's stubbornness was incredibly and infuriatingly familiar. Even if the words came through gritted teeth. "'not failing now. No narcotics." Which was clearly the end of that discussion.

Neither was quite sure how they pulled it off. But eventually Will was safely on the bed and Clint had slumped to the chair beside it. They were exhausted from the excursion and too little rest. But there was no more hostility between them. Just mistrust that was caused by all the years they'd spent apart, and a great deal of awkwardness. It was bizarre to them both to be around someone they once knew better than themselves, only to find that they'd grown up to total strangers.

This, though… This would've been the perfect opportunity to _talk_. To clear the air. To start the long, rocky road of getting to know each other again. Too bad neither twin knew how to start.

Clint focused on the TV and groaned. "'The Way We Were'?" He looked around. "Where's the remote?"

Will shrugged, appearing half-asleep despite the still visible tension. "Dunno. And I'm not moving." The man was starting to slur a little from exhaustion. "I shouldn't be getting out of the bed much, remember? 'Sides…" The agent was almost able to disguise a yawn, but the drooping eyelids gave him away. "… that's a classic."

Clint's eyebrow bounced up. He smirked. "Hang on. Are you the romantic flicks type of a guy?"

Will was more than halfway to sleep. Still the man managed a very convincing glare. "You tell anyone…"

"Save the threats for when you're not unable to even squash a fly."

It was impossible to tell if Will rolled his eyes or fought very hard not to fall asleep. What came out was barely comprehensible. "… comedian …"

Somehow it was all achingly familiar and natural, despite the discomfort lurking behind everything. And despite knowing full well that he shouldn't have Clint found himself thinking about all the lost time. About 'what ifs' and 'could've beens'.

He was so preoccupied by those troubled thoughts that his instincts and senses failed him. He didn't notice the person entering the room until a far too familiar voice spoke. "Well isn't this a disgustingly domestic sight." Barney's tone was laced with years upon years of bitterness and resentment. "Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you? I think it's high time we have a little chat…"

* * *

Will heard something, reaching for him like tentacles through thick sleep. He groaned and attempted to shift, only to realize that he was too exhausted to do much of anything. His hazy eyes did open halfway, though.

Clint stood beside his bed, posture stiff and fists balled. Only a step further stood a man who looked a lot like Barney Barton. Will frowned.

Wasn't Barney supposed to be dead?

That thought vanished quickly and violently when he noticed the long, sharp knife Barney held in such an angle that his twin had no hope of noticing it. Will's newly fixed heart began to race far faster than it should've. The whole world spun hazardously.

He had to warn Clint. Needed to alert him of the threat. But he lost consciousness before he got the chance to.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: What? You thought it'd been all rainbows and happiness for the last three chapters? Noooope. Not quite. Stupid Barney, coming to ruin the twin-bonding! Let's hope that someone from either team is near! (groans) How is this tale going to end?

AND, most importantly… Was this chapter worth the wait? PLEASE, do let me know! I'd LOVE to hear from you.

Until next time – which should come A LOT faster! I REALLY hope that you'll all be there.

Take care!


	9. Blood Brothers

A/N: It's been WAY TOO LONG. (winces) BUT, now we're here. AT LAST! (BEAMS) We'll see if that's a good thing or not…

FIRST, though… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews and support! They mean more to me than you could ever imagine. (HUGS)

Okay, because I've already kept you waiting TOO LONG… Let's go! I REALLY HOPE that this turns out worth the wait.

TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of drug-use and self-harm.

* * *

Chapter 9 of 10 – Blood Brothers

* * *

/ _Will recovered, at least as far as his adoptive parents knew. Because while they didn't exactly provide him with a good, loving home he didn't have anyone else. So he put on a show for them and his newest shrink, succeeded in tricking them all into believing that he was sober and happy. Or maybe they did see through his act but didn't care. By some miracle he still managed to get perfect grades from school. Nothing about his appearance aside lost weight indicated that something was still wrong, and he'd always been a scrawny kid so no one noticed. No one noticed him, period. Not as long as he didn't get into a trouble, not as long as he did what was expected of him._

 _In a world of people who all played their roles with Oscar-worthy talent, he was the greatest pretender of all – he was the only one who managed to make himself invisible._

 _The problem with Will's act was that there was no way he could stay in his role for all eternity. Not with how badly he was hurting. Not with the amount of poison, figurative and literal, coursing through his veins._

 _Will kept teetering on a very dangerous edge of losing it on himself or others. His line was finally crossed on one rainy night, when he walked into his room to find his adoptive father holding a diary. His diary. The only thing to which he'd ever confessed…_

 _He'd seen disgust on a lot of faces throughout his young life. But never the kind of resentment he faced then, from a man who was supposed to be his father. The man held up the notebook in a manner most would handle garbage. "Are you completely delusional? Or so wrapped into the web of lies you've built that you're even trying to lie to yourself?"_

 _Will shuddered. For a second so completely and utterly baffled that he didn't know how to react. Then he scoffed. "Really? If I…" He gritted his teeth. "You still think I'm lying? After all these years? You think I do the things I do, just because I want to make your life miserable? Or ruin your career?" He didn't want to reveal what was about to crawl out of his mouth. But there was no stopping the flood when years upon years of a damn came crashing down. "My mom was so mentally unstable that I almost died because of it! My own brother doesn't want anything to do with me anymore! And when… when I'm given to other people to raise…" Something moist traveled down his cheeks and he was trembling so badly that he could barely stand. He was still high, but coming down too fast. "You were supposed to keep me safe! You were supposed to care about me, or at least pretend that you did!"_

 _His adoptive father snorted. "Care about you? When you've been nothing but a disappointment from the start?" The man sighed tiredly. "Despite all your lies, despite all those disappointments… We've tried to provide you with all the things you need, haven't we?"_

 _"I needed you to believe in me." Will was feeling exhausted, too. Completely and utterly drained. "What that woman did to me…"_

 _His adoptive father dropped the diary unceremoniously and struck him, right at the face. It wasn't the first time, but for some reason this one hurt the most. "Agatha was a valuable colleague and a good friend. Don't you dare tarnish her memory with lies! I'm sick of hearing them."_

 _"And I'm sick of her! I'm sick of never getting rid of her!" Will gestured heatedly towards the diary that lay on the floor. "You read that. Does it look like she's just a memory to me?" His voice was getting hysterical and his heart was beating at an unhealthy rhythm but he didn't even notice. "I've been systematically destroying myself because I've been trying to forget! Because I've been trying to be the son you want me to be!" His limit had been crossed. With trembling hands, too high and overwhelmed to feel the shame he should've, he peeled up his sleeves to reveal the scar-littered skin above both his wrist-areas. "Are these a lie, too?" It was as good as screaming 'PLEASE, HELP ME! PLEASE, LISTEN TO ME!' at the top of his lungs._

 _His adoptive father stared, the disgust in his eyes deepening still. Then raised a hand to strike him again. It was more than Will could handle, emotionally and physically._

 _Will had very vague memories of what came next. Through red haze he watched his own fist rising and striking down, once, twice… He had no idea how many times, in the end. Certainly enough to shatter a nose and a cheek-bone. Then he grabbed his adoptive father's arm, pulled and twisted until the man was howling. He didn't stop even when there was a cracking sound. He didn't know when he would've stopped, years upon years of pain finally flowing out._

 _Until there was a child screaming. Sheer terror coloring her voice. "Stop it! You're killing him! Please stop!" The daughter his adoptive parents had… She was too young to understand. To her, her parents were great heroes. Looking at himself through her eyes, Will saw a monster._

 _The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the bathroom floor, legs pressed against his chest and arms wrapped tightly around them. His hands and clothes had bloodstains. And he was still shaking, badly. He was crying, too, but had no idea about that. He felt cold, and his chest hurt. No matter how badly he wanted to run away, escape, he didn't have enough strength._

 _There was chaos behind the room's locked door. Then silence. Will waited for someone to come and try to take him away, but no one did. He fell asleep or lost consciousness, then woke up. Several times over. Eventually he threw up, until there was nothing in his stomach. After that he slept some more. When he woke up his head hurt almost as badly as his hands and chest-area. His legs were dangerously wobbly as he struggled to his feet, then began to stumble out of the room._

 _The whole house bathed in morning-light. Following noise coming from a TV, Will stumbled to the living room. The first thing he saw what looked suspiciously lot like the remnants of his diary in a fireplace. His adoptive mother was drinking coffee, her face pale but just as perfect as always. It was like nothing had ever happened. She looked at anything else to avoid even glancing towards him. "Your father will return from the hospital today. I'm sure that you're pleased to hear that he's been recovering well from his accident." She took a sip of coffee, and for a second, just one, the look in her eyes… "You should get dressed. And pack up. Your ride arrives in two hours."_

 _Will blinked once. That revelation shouldn't have hurt, but it did. "My ride?"_

 _"Yes." Two sips passed by. "Your father and I talked. Considering your recent… struggles, we're both sure that you'll be much happier as a student of another school. One with far more strict rules. What we found is quite far, but should suit your needs perfectly."_

 _Kicking him out would've been a scandal his adoptive parents didn't want. But this, sending him away… It was far subtler. Solved all their problems._

 _Will could've begged. He definitely should've apologized. But he was too numb for any of that. So he turned and left the room, without making a sound or looking back, and headed to pack his belongings._ /

* * *

/ _Clint didn't stay at the circus for long after his miserable birthday. It was supposed to be a place of safety, somewhere he could belong. He was furious at himself for such misjudgment, even more than he blamed Jacques. And he wasn't planning on repeating that mistake._

 _Which didn't mean that he would've chosen the most sensible path. Such that he could've been proud of. He had his moral code, but he also had no other choice but to do what he had to in order to survive. Including things that weren't strictly speaking legal._

 _This occasion… was a little more satisfying than most. The man who operated with Jacques to rob the circus had been doing business with the wrong people. Which tends to get one into a trouble._

 _Clint and a team of three others was supposed to rob back some money. That was all. Of course it wasn't quite so simple._

 _The mansion was heavily guarded, which they hadn't been notified of in beforehand. Clint's trained skills and natural talent helped him far. In fact, he almost dared to take a sigh of relief. Until a bullet came flying. It grazed his side, took his breath away. A second shot missed his head far too narrowly. He barely had the time to realize what was happening until the attacker was charging at him. He could only react instinctively._

 _Clint had barely spun around before his knife was already flying. By the time he'd turned fully towards the attacker the weapon had already reached its target. The other man froze. Then slumped, like a ragdoll without its strings. The little light streaming through a window hit the attacker's face. The unfolding sight made Clint heart stop and shatter in his chest. "Barney…?"_

 _Through his ear comm the one accomplice he had left standing announced that he was leaving, without or without him. Clint knew, very well, that he should've also been rushing. And he was. Towards Barney._

 _There was so much blood that it made him feel sick to his stomach. Its stench made the whole thing even more revolting. Clint did what little he could to staunch the bleeding, but rather quickly he ran out of hands._

 _Barney was gasping, an unfocused pair of eyes fluttering closed and open. In Clint's mind the faces of the two brothers he'd had kept switching back and forth. Like they were both dying right in front of his eyes._

 _He wasn't a good enough brother for Will. And now… Now…_

 _Barney coughed, blood bubbling to the young man's lips. Clint swallowed thickly, panic speeding sharply through him. "Barney, don't…!" He couldn't bring himself to voice the rest, no matter how hard he tried._

 _Barney's gaze shifted, just a little. Focused, even if only for a moment. For four seconds that felt endless their eyes locked and held. The older one's filling with such shock and betrayal that it felt worse than the knife._

 _In the middle of the emotional turmoil Clint barely felt the sensation of poking. He shuddered, glancing towards the direction. Ice filled his veins when he realized that Barney was holding a gun against his stomach. The hand attempted to lift the firearm higher, aim it at his heart, but couldn't manage it. Or maybe his adoptive brother changed his mind._

 _Then, all of a sudden, Barney fingers uncurled and the gun fell with a deafeningly loud clatter. The young man's hand fell and eyes rolled barely closing. It was over._

 _"Hawkeye." The voice, rather than from his ear comm, came from right behind him. His last remaining accomplice, who happened to be Buck Chisholm, didn't sound pleased or patient. "I got what we came from. It's time to wrap up. Are you coming with me? Or not? This is your final chance to prove that you're a team player."_

 _Clint felt torn apart. But he also knew that there was only one decision he could make. He shook his head desperately, realizing that he couldn't feel his brother's heartbeat anymore._

 _The jolt of pain was sudden and shocking. Made him shudder. He didn't have to look to know that there was an arrow sticking from his shoulder. "Don't expect me to be waiting for you", Buck advised through his teeth. "In fact… Do us both a favor, and don't ever come anywhere near me if you somehow make it out of this." With that his mentor, who'd taught him almost everything he knew about archery and fighting, who gave up a lot for him, walked away from him. For the last time._

 _Clint wanted to call out to Buck. And Barney. Beg his brother to wake up, to fight, to let him explain. But he still didn't have enough breath. And soon new gunshots were raining down on him. One bullet slammed into his flesh. Helpless to do anything for his brother and in no condition to fight, Clint ran, his eyes growing blurry from more than just pain and blood loss._

 _Buck never did wait for him, which he barely even registered. Clint staggered to his newest hideout, a barely still standing house that was mostly occupied by junkies. It was a horrible place but he had nowhere else to go. No one asked a thing or even noticed that he was bleeding. There, on a filthy mattress, the teenager tended to his own wounds although he was barely conscious. Even though he barely knew how to make stitches. He passed out from agony with a few tears running down his cheeks._

 _Clint succeeded in getting an infection that quite nearly killed him. For days fever ravished his body. He barely made it through the trip to a pharmacy to steal antibiotics to save his life. Yet somehow, as day six dawned after the third end of his world, he was still alive. For the first time in his life Clint wondered if it would've been better to not be._ /

* * *

Clint's heart thumped painfully as he stared at the slightly older man who should've been dead. Who died right in front of his eyes. Or didn't.

Barney's eyes were unreadable. Unfamiliar. "So many years… and there you finally are." The man shook his head, as though trying to clear it. "Do you have any idea how exhausting it's been to hate someone for so long? How much energy I've wasted on imagining what I'll do when I finally find you?"

Clint swallowed, feeling dizzy and out of breath. "I thought…" He had no idea what to say. How to explain, now that he finally got the chance. In the end the words bubbled easily, without him registering them actively. "Barney, I'm sorry. For everything." And he was. Sorrier than any words could ever explain.

He had two brothers and he failed them both, in different ways but just as spectacularly.

Barney nodded, appearing wounded and bitter. "Oh yeah, I can imagine. Do you…" The older man's jaw clenched. "You just… left me there."

Clint sighed heavily. "I had no other choice." He tensed up when the other took a step closer. "I though, for years… that I killed you. That I…"

"Just cut it with the crap, will you?" Barney's eyes flashed. "We were supposed to be brothers. And you left me to die." The man tilted his head. "For a very long time I wasn't sure how to repay you. Until I discovered that you have a twin-brother. Who happened to land himself into a hospital. I saw the look on your face when you sat outside the hospital with that little guy. Benji, isn't he? And then… Then I knew just what to do." With that as the only warning the man made a swift move towards Will's unconscious form.

* * *

Will wasn't quite sure if he was unconscious, dead or going out of his mind. He felt like he was floating. For the first time in… he didn't even know how long there was no pain. Just weightlessness. It felt amazing.

Until he felt something calling out to him. A voice he hadn't heard in so long that he'd nearly forgotten how it sounded. "Wake up, William." And then she was right there in front of him.

Will swallowed. "Mom?" Was this… real? Was he…?

She smiled and brushed his cheek with cold fingers. "I've missed you, too, sweetheart. But right now you need to go back. To your brother."

His heart plummeted and he looked down, ashamed.

"It's alright, sweetheart. You've both made a lot of mistakes. You've stumbled, you've been lost. And I'm so sorry that I wasn't strong enough to be there to help you." She placed two fingers under his chin to make him look at her. "I'm gone. But the story of you two isn't over yet."

Will wished that he would've been able to believe her. Until he came to the conclusion that it didn't matter if he believed or not. He was already prepared to fight harder than he ever had in his life.

"Mom…"

"I know", she assured him. He could've sworn that he felt a kiss before she went on. "I love you, too. Both of you. And I'm very proud of how you turned up. Now hurry."

Gone was the comfort. Gone was the painlessness and warmth. Will sucked in an agonizing, greedy gulp of frosty air. Then dove through the unknown, back towards the surface. And hoped that he wasn't too late already.

* * *

Clint didn't freeze from panic. Nor did he hesitate. He grabbed Barney's wrist and squeezed furiously, fighting for both his brothers at the same time.

Barney… The boy he once knew couldn't have fallen this low, couldn't have turned into _this_. And it was his job to keep Will safe. Even if his twin chose to walk away from him, no matter how many long years passed by with the two of them…

"Don't…"

The thought, or the sentence, was never finished. Clint had absolutely no way of seeing the knife coming. Not until it pierced his skin and sunk right in, making itself home. It was the exact same spot where his knife hit Barney once, he realized with delay.

Clint didn't even realize properly what happened until Barney was already guiding him down. Gently, with a menacing look on his face. "Honestly? I thought I'd butcher him. But this…" The knife was twisted, which caused an inferno of agony. "… is far more poetic. Almost Shakespearean." The older man leaned closer until their noses nearly touched. "Now… we're even." It was blatantly obvious that Barney didn't stick around to make sure he'd die on purpose. The man walked away without looking back. And left some final words to echo behind him. "I should've killed you back then, but I was too much of a coward. Too soft. I see that you're still just as pathetic." The door closed.

The whole time Clint's hand was wrapped around a concealed knife. He'd been holding it since grabbing his adoptive brother's wrist with the other hand. He could've easily used it against Barney. But he didn't. Couldn't bring himself to. Not on purpose, not against someone he still considered a brother. Not when he still remembered the lost little boy whose parents he stole.

Clint coughed painfully, tasting blood, and mused with macabre amusement that this was where mercy got him.

His eyes were already closed. He was fast on is way under. Until the machinery monitoring Will began to wail shrilly. And he realized that he couldn't afford to be done fighting just yet.

* * *

Waking up took a ridiculous amount of effort. Far too much. But Will had more motivation than ever in his life, so his eyes fluttered open.

Will's newly fixed up heart thumped in a manner he instantly recognized as unhealthy. But it didn't matter that he was barely conscious and in pain. His brother needed him.

Shifting awkwardly and uncomfortably, he discovered that Barney wasn't in the room anymore. He couldn't see his twin, either. His lips opened, but before he managed to utter a sound the unmistakable stench of blood slapped him across the face.

 _No, no, no…!_

Defying physical limitations and every inch of his pain-tolerance, Will dragged himself to the bed's edge and peered down. The first thing he saw was a large, constantly growing pool of blood. Then Clint in the middle of it. Face ashen, obviously in a shock and barely conscious.

Will needed no further coaxing. Machinery began to wail as he tore off the wires attached to him. Good. Maybe it'd make some medical professionals rush for aid. He gritted his teeth, then stumbled up to find himself crash-landing to his brother's side. Using every little bit of strength he had, he pressed down, doing his best to ignore the way Clint whimpered a protest.

"Okay…", he breathed, focusing firmly on his twin's hooded, barely open eyes. "… gonna be okay …" _So hang in there!_

He shivered at the sensation of touch. Looking down, he found Clint's hand pressed on top of his own. They were both trembling from agony and exhaustion, neither was quite conscious and blood made their hands slick. Some red stained Will's hospital gown as well from where stitches had been pulled. But they were also both hanging on, for each other, with all they had.

It wasn't until they heard medical professionals right outside the room's door Clint's eyes fluttered closed. Will's strength ran out almost simultaneously, sending him slumping to his twin's side. Their bloodied hands never once broke contact.

While the hospital staff started a war to keep them both alive, the twins had the same dream.

* * *

/ _Once more small children, stay stood on the edge of a cliff and looked down towards the angry waves crashing against stone. The water was pitch-black but neither felt frightened. They held each other's hands more tightly, braced themselves._

 _"Ready?" Clint inquired._

 _"Ready", Will echoed without hesitation._

 _They jumped together and disappeared into the thundering water._ /

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: OOOOOH BOY…! Poor Clint! He just couldn't hurt Barney again. Is it going to cost him his life? And what about Will? Are they going to be okay?

AND, MOST IMPORTANTLY… Was this chapter worth the wait? At all? PLEASE, do let me know! Hearing from you makes me INSANELY happy.

Awkay, it's really late and I need sleep. Until next time, folks – which also happens to be the final chapter! I REALLY HOPE that I'll see you all there.

Take care!


	10. Lay Your Ghosts to Rest

A/N: Guess what, guys? In honor of 2018 starting, it's time to FINALLY bring this story to an end! (BEEEEEAMS) Hooray…?

FIRST, though…! THANK YOU, so very much, for all your reviews and support! They're what have carried this story so far, you know? (HUGS)

Awkay, because I left you on a MEAN cliffie and I know that you want to see what happens next… LET'S GO! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

* * *

Chapter 10 of 10 – Lay Your Ghosts to Rest

* * *

/ _As it turned out, getting kicked out by his adoptive parents was the best thing that'd happened to Will since Clint told him to leave. There, away from all the memories and so-called friends who meant nothing but trouble, he was able to breathe again. He went to therapy out of his own free will. Started rehab. And this time he succeeded, because he was doing it honestly, just for himself._

 _Some of the person he was while drunk or high remained, lingered behind like a ghost. When he wanted to be, he was a witty and sarcastic young man. Which earned him a few friends. Not friends for life, and not such who would've really known him. But at least he wasn't lonely anymore._

 _Knowing that he needed something to blow off the steam, ache, cravings and rage that threatened to bubble over, he decided on hobbies that were probably bad ideas. Such as martial arts and shooting. And, since he didn't have his adoptive parents' wealth to support and trap him anymore, he started working as a barista at a café near his university._

 _One evening, not much before Christmas, his eyes caught a pair of hazel ones looking right back with open curiosity. The girl was incredibly beautiful with her long, wavy hair and mocha-colored skin. He could've sworn that his heart, which was supposed to be all fixed, skipped a couple of beats when she smiled._

 _Once she left he not only found a generous tip. But also an incredibly skilled draft of his face, along with a message. '_ I don't think I got your eyes quite right. If you don't mind me trying to draw you again, have coffee with me tomorrow. _'_

 _Unable to even consider any other option, Will sat to her table the following evening. And smiled honestly for the first time in… forever. "Hey. I'm Will."_

 _She grinned. "Leah. And since my suggestion didn't freak you out, I'll risk buying you coffee as a thank you."_

 _Two months later a man he'd never met before approached him at a shooting range. "I've been observing you for a while. And I'd like to make use of talent like that." A card was handed towards him._

 _Will frowned, tempted but healthily hesitant. The knowledge that he'd been watched by someone who looked too much like his adoptive father didn't sit well with him. "What's this?"_

 _"A job offer." The older man tilted his head. "Would you like to find out what IMF is?"_

 _With those two meetings Will's new life began._ /

* * *

/ _Clint was barely even eighteen when he found himself stuck in a bit of a trouble. Again. Because he'd messed up. Again. And it looked like this time it'd cost him his freedom._

 _When a man he'd never met before entered the room he first imagined that it was someone from the police. Only… This arrival's suit looked curiously expensive._

 _He followed with sharp, mistrusting eyes as the man claimed the seat beside his hospital bed like someone who belonged there and began to flip through a file. It took torturously long before the arrival spoke. "You… have been busy, kid. So far you've been connected to having robbed five extremely wealthy criminals. And that's just scratching the surface." The man pointed towards the bruises all over the boy's face and winced. "You've succeeded in fleeing the law so many times that I guess they started taking it personally. I need to have a chat about rough handling with the guys who arrested you."_

 _Clint's eyebrow bounced up while he wondered if the man thought he was stupid enough to believe that the other gave a damn._

 _Undiscouraged by his lack of verbal response, the stranger began to skim through the file once more. "Archery… You're not too shabby with a handgun and knives, either. And from the looks of it you're quite an acrobat." The man pursed his lips. "Makes me wonder… Last night you took down five heavily armed bodyguards… but it didn't take more than two police officers to arrest you?"_

 _Clint shrugged. He didn't like the knowing look on the stranger's face. "Didn't feel like getting myself into even more trouble." His eyebrows furrowed. "Who are you? And what do you want from me?" Subtlety had never been his forte. Especially not now, with how unnerved he was by the fact that this guy and… whoever he worked for had been able to keep an eye on him._

 _The man seemed amused, rather than insulted. Almost like having expected his response. "I'm Phil Coulson. And I have a job offer for you."_

 _Clint snorted with disbelief. He yanked at the handcuff that fastened him to the bed. "They told you that they'll throw me to jail as soon as I'm recovered enough, right?"_

 _Phil grinned. "Get yourself free from the cuffs in under a minute… and maybe there's something I can do to keep you out of jail. And don't insult us both by claiming that you wouldn't know how to. I've seen your file."_

 _In forty seconds Clint's new life began._ /

* * *

It was far too sunny for a day of funeral. A very small group of grim-faced people had huddled together and watched as a coffin was lowered to the ground. The size of the audience wouldn't have bothered the person lay in the wooden box, who'd never been a fan of crowds.

"… gathered here today to …"

A warm breath of wind blew, caressed a pair of hellishly stinging eyes soothingly. It did little to ease the searing sensation. But the shoulders that'd slumped under the weight of the whole world relaxed ever so slightly, a small portion of the burden carried away by the wind.

Clint drew in a deep, shuddering breath that did his slowly healing wound no favors. Technically, he should've still been in a hospital. But this was far more important.

At very least he wanted to say goodbye properly, after all the lost time.

The priest continued to speak hollow words. Soon enough dirt covered to coffin entirely. Shortly after the group of friends surrounding him took their distance, staying far enough to allow privacy but close enough to be there if they were needed.

Something moist traveled down Clint's cheeks, and he wondered if started to rain, after all. His mouth opened but in the end nothing came out. There was so much he would've wanted to say. But then again… What difference would words make now?

He shivered when, without a warning, a hand grabbed his. Instantly on guard, he glanced towards the limb. It was less calloused than his archery-hardened one but otherwise nearly identical. Warm. Solid. Real. Looking up once more, he discovered whatever it was he felt was reflected in Will's eyes. Grief… Remorse… Longing… But also a touch of hope and relief.

They'd done so many things wrong in their lives. Stumbled and fallen, forced themselves back up over and over again. But now, they'd done at least one more thing right. Their mother had finally been laid to rest. They could only hope that she was proud of them, wherever she was.

Clint squeezed Will's hand back, and they came to a silent agreement that not another word needed to be said.

It was most likely simply a trick caused by light and residual moisture from three days of rain, of course. But if one looked closely enough, there seemed to be a ghost-like figure stood by the cemetery's gate. With a smile on her face.

* * *

The two teams gave their grieving friends fifteen more minutes before Tony finally approached. "So… Shawarma?" the billionaire suggested hopefully.

The twins had never seemed more identical than they did upon rolling their eyes and trying hard not to seem amused.

Steve and Ethan took the lead silently, as they often did. Leading their troupes out of the hurricane that'd been blowing since the twins were reunited. Tony and Benji remained close, babbling excitedly and talking over each other as they planned on something that probably promised bad news. Jane and Natasha lingered behind, watching their backs. Wanda walked close to Clint and held his hand without even noticing it, still needing the reassurance that she hadn't lost him.

True, the brothers still had a mountain of issues to sort out. And things would probably always be… complicated between them. But they weren't alone in the world, like they once thought they were. The comfort of that realization wrapped around them both like a blanket.

* * *

Two months later Barney Barton was drinking himself to oblivion at one of his favorite bars. Which he'd been doing far too frequently lately, a very annoying, sharp voice in the back of his head pointed out. (A voice that sounded too much like both his mother and Clint.) He'd imagined that the attack on his so-called, failure of a brother would set him free of the bitter taste that'd been sitting in his throat since he walked away from the Carnival. No such luck.

Every time he fell asleep he dreamt of his adoptive brother. Every time he looked into a mirror he saw the face of that little boy he once left behind, who refused to go with him. By now he'd lost track on how many mirrors he'd shattered.

Whether he'd succeeded in killing Clint or not, the man's ghost was alive and well in his head, and he had no idea what to do about it.

He shivered when a drink was placed on in front of his drumming fingers. The bartender responded to his nearly hostile, demanding glare with a nod to the right. "The lady over there wanted to say 'Hi'."

Barney was brooding, true. But he was also a man with… a healthy appetite. Curiosity and something else rising, he craned his neck towards the mentioned direction. Just in time to see a woman with the perfect figure and long, black hair walking away. Never one to refuse tempting offers, he downed the gift-drink with one gulp and rushed to motion, primal urges leading the way.

His knees began to turn to rubber just as he reached the woman. In a flash a pair of arms wrapped around him, making it seem like they were locked to a heated embrace. He almost got a good luck at her face, until she moved her head to whisper in his ear. "Shh… Just go to sleep. You'll get a surprise when you wake up."

Darkness swallowed him up.

When he woke up he was in a room he'd never seen before. And Clint stood only five steps away from the bed he'd been placed to. Barney needed no further trigger. With a clumsy hand, his head only just waking up, he grabbed a gun and fired several shots. Several seconds later he realized that even a single bullet didn't actually fly.

The other man's eyebrow arched. "Really? You thought I'd leave you with a functional firearm?"

Barney's heart thudded as the gravity of the situation began to register to him. He clenched his jaw. "If you're going to kill me… Just do it."

"No. I'm not going to kill you." The other took a step closer, which was when Barney became aware of the plexi-glass separating them. And realized that he couldn't recognize the eyes looking back at him. "I'm going to make you disappear. Because no matter how many times Clint already has and would try to reason with you, it wouldn't make any difference." The man, Will, tilted his head. "Did you really think that I wasn't keeping an eye on you? That I wouldn't find out about the plans you had for his family?" The agent's eyes flashed. "After everything you've already put him through… I'm not letting you hurt his wife and kids. I've already let down three families. I'm not about to fail with his." With that the agent was walking away.

"Hey!" Barney slammed his fist against the plexi-glass, panic rising. "You can't just leave me here, you asshole! DON'T YOU DARE LEAVE ME HERE!"

A door slammed closed.

* * *

Natasha was waiting when Will left the room, the black wig she wore earlier in a careless yet elegant hold. She gave him a sharp look. "Well?"

Will sighed heavily. He still wasn't quite recovered from the heart-surgery and the events before, as well as after, it. Today had been too exciting. "He's awake. And unhappy."

Only a careful pair of eyes caught the barely visible hint of softening in Natasha's eyes. "This was the only way", she pointed out. "Fury will make sure that he has everything he needs."

On a level of reason Will knew that it was better than Barney deserved. Still… "I'd appreciate it if…"

"Don't worry. This'll stay between us and Fury", Natasha assured him. They exchanged nods, and he was already walking away before she went on. "You should tell Clint, you know. About Leah and Serena."

Will shuddered, not having expected that although he should've. He gritted his teeth, the ache still fresh despite all the years that'd flown by. "I will." And he would, just… not today. Or tomorrow. "When I'm ready." He chose to switch the topic before the pain would become unbearable. "Thanks for helping me today."

Natasha shrugged. Was that… the beginning of a smile? "I think we're both on the same page, wanting to keep that idiot as safe as he can be." Which was quite possibly the biggest sign of trust she could give. And he realized that after everything he'd lost – adoptive parents who never really took him in, friends, mom, wife, child – he now had a bigger family than ever in his life.

It felt incredibly good, Will concluded silently, to not be alone in the world anymore.

* * *

Three more months flew by. A warm breath of wind made its way to the Farm as the door opened. "Honey, I'm home! And I didn't come alone."

The thundering steps of Lila and Cooper were the first response Clint received. Smiling, Laura picked up Nate and whispered to her youngest's ear. "C'mon, little troublemaker. Let's go see uncle Will."

By the time she made it to the door Will was already facing an onslaught of questions, from both Lila who was in her daddy's arms and Cooper who stood a slight distance away. Clearly the identical appearance to their dad's helped the usually reserved kids to relax.

Will noticed her quickly, of course. There was something almost shy to the nod he offered as a greeting. "Hey."

"Hey." Laura was amazed by how someone who looked just like her husband could seem so different. "I was already starting to wonder if you'd ever dare to visit."

Will's smile was tiny but it reached his eyes.

* * *

A year later the twins stood in front of a grave. Yet again. Just like the previous time, neither felt any particular need to say a thing.

As they both lay down a single rose, Will introduced Clint to his family. And not for the first nor last time wished that they would've had the chance to actually meet. Leah would've liked Clint.

With his flower Will swore to keep on fighting and truly living. He wished from the bottom of his broken but still beating heart that his dearest ones would have the patience to keep waiting for him. And with his flower Clint promised that he'd do whatever was in his power to look out for the man those two had to leave behind. Now that they'd found each other again.

There'd always be a rift between them, caused by all the years they spent apart and all the harsh lessons they learned throughout that time. But come what may, they'd never chase each other away again. They'd never imagine that they were all alone in the world again.

As the twins walked away eventually one could, just barely, see the young innocent boys they once were in their shadows. Warm wind ushered them forward.

* * *

End

* * *

A/N: AAAAAND, thus concludes this tale that began A LONG time ago. Not a fairytale ending, for sure, but still a happy one. The twins are still alive, still together, and they won't let go again.

SOOOOO… Was that any good, at all? PLEASE, do let me know!

And THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for sticking around through this whole, LONG ride! It's thanks you guys the story was allowed to reach its end. (HUGS)

Who knows, maybe I'll see you again one day.

Take care!


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